The day after tomorrow, my oldest is a first grader, and her first year of elementary school is over. The week after that, she'll turn 6—and she'll be officially through the first 1/3 of her childhood. To me, it's blown by in an instant. I can still distinctly remember how she fluttered in my arms like a little bird when I held her for the first time, five years ago next month.
That's the hardest part of being a parent. As you're cheering your child on through milestones both well celebrated (the end of a school year) and silently, invisibly achieved (my youngest's newfound ability to pronounce those always tough ls and fs), every accomplishment they make is another step away from you.
And though I'm working hard every day to ensure my girls grow up to be confident, well-adjusted, independent adults, selfishly, I wish that I could slow or stop time, and keep them forever as they are now—my sweet, boisterous almost-six-year-old with the loose tooth, who's completely confident in her abilities to conquer anything, and my mischievous, giggly three-year-old who's always on the go (even when she's supposed to be asleep).
I"m going to miss this particular moment in time, dearly, when it's gone. But I'm excited to see what's next for these two.
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