I'm blogging late. I can't sleep and I can't help but peek in on my sweet little Mr. as he sleeps in his bed on the eve of his first day of preschool. He's so big. I sneak in and rock him in his sleep. He won't remember.
I keep picturing sweet baby toes that I kissed at three days old, asking him to promise me he wouldn't grow up. A little hand grasped around my finger. Listening to his little squeals at 6 months as he delighted in everything around him. First bath. First food. First steps. First words. Oh, those sweet first words that only I could decipher. I remember looking at him as a baby trying to picture the toddler he would become; the boy he would become.
I didn't realize it had come. It happened right under my nose and I barely noticed. He broke his promise, but I knew in my heart he would. He had to. It's okay. Tomorrow he'll wear his backpack. Tomorrow we'll take pictures. Tomorrow we'll walk him to his class.
I'll ask him again to promise me to never grow up, and he'll answer as he always does these days, "Mommy I have to get bigger, cause I'm going to be a grown-up man!" I'll ask him his favorite question, "Who's my favorite boy in the whole, wide, world?" And he'll answer with the same answer, "Ethan Davis Jackson!"
I want to freeze time.