Stop growing! I find myself saying this more and more. While the days seem long, the milestones are many, whizzing past like speed racers. My toddler claims to be a big boy that can clothe himself (no jocks, because that is hilarious), wipe his own bum (leave skiddies on jocks that he has been forced to wear), and of course, create his own meals (cheese. Just cheese).
My daughter on the other hand, my tiny baby girl stares adamantly as she tries to heave herself out of the baby chair in the shopping trolley, professing through strains and grunts that she (and this is not a direct quote because she can’t actually speak) is a big girl now and even though she can’t crawl, walk, talk or go to the toilet unassisted, is apparently old enough to sit in the big seat of the trolley.
As a mother, you hear and say the same things often: It happens overnight; They couldn’t do that yesterday; Two going on ten; and of course, the mantra for all mothers as they hold their tiny escape artists against their chest and try to smother them with kisses, stop growing!
The mantra is useless. Time continues and without any consideration for their parents, the children continue to tick off each milestone, the only hindrance to their development is we. I can admit, the first time around we put that little fella through his paces, had him standing against walls and ready to walk out the door so fast you would think we had somewhere to be. Now, the second time, if I even see the shadow of a milestone trying to Peter Pan it’s way to my daughter, bam; I pick her up and coddle her until she regresses back to infancy.
I’m not suggesting they stop growth permanently. Sure, go forth, brush your teeth, wipe your bum, make your own breakfast at 4 am so I don’t have to zombie through the dark and start my day one billion hours earlier than necessary.
All I’m asking is that in those sweet innocent moments when they cuddle into the crook of my arm and say ‘Mum, I love you forever,’ that they pretty please, with a cherry on top, stop growing.