My boys are growing up.
(I've forbidden Punk to grow up, so I'm covered there. Surely she'll listen.)
But my boys have gone from chubby little lumps of flesh to active, interactive children. They became people, but I'm not sure when.
This weekend, my little people moved into bunk beds and they love it.
No, love is too wimpy a word.
They are stalker obsessed with their new beds.
Bug sits on the top bunk grinning stupidly/happily at me.
Boo lays in his bed reading a book--or at least looking like he's reading. That's when he's not trying to scale the ladder to get to Mt. Bug.
And we moved Punk into a crib and out of the cradle in our room.
So for the first time, we all slept last night.
Safe and snug, like bugs in . . . our respective beds.
But it suddenly feels like my boys are just one step away from declaring a major, getting married, and making babies themselves.
And while I'm excited by each new development, I'm saddened by all the ones we're leaving behind.
How do you do it? How do you let them grown up when all you want to do is keep them little forever?
How do you start letting go, in however small of increments, so they learn to stand on their own chubby little feet?
In my case, when they pry my cold, dead fingers off.
Sounds like a healthy mother/child relationship, doesn't it?
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