Time flies when you're having kids

We made a party yesterday, for one of our little ones. We have an eleven-year-old now. She didn't used to be eleven, but now she is.

We've had eleven-year-olds before. She has three older sisters; they're twelve, and two of them are going to be thirteen before we know it.

But she was always one of the "little ones".

It's not that we need a reminder, really. But it goes very quickly.

Wasn't she just in the threes class? No, that's her sister in the threes class, right now.
Wasn't that one just born? Nope. She's going to be four.

Wasn't I just...twenty? Nice try. Not even close.

You get the gist.

It makes me want to pay attention to every little thing. Savor it.
And, more pragmatically, weather it, as I know this.too.shall.pass.

I often think about how things we're doing now will be viewed when they are no longer ours, but theirs:
Their childhood stories.
The tales they tell their roommates freshman year.
The things they talk about with their first "real" boyfriend.
The times they tease us about when we're old and we're all together for the holidays.
The things they keep going, live up to, get over. The things they don't.

Whew!

Now that I think about it, eleven's not that old.

Forty one? That's another story.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt