At Target this week, Lydia rode in the cart and sang, “I love Mommy! I love Mommy!” at the top of her lungs.
She still says “hurted” and “bited“.
She gets chocolate peanut butter spread on her cheek and doesn’t notice for hours.
She carries her bunny, Flopsy to the store, sleeps with her and considers her a best friend.
She says, “Hoo-normous” instead of “enormous” or “humongous”.
When she hangs out with Evan, they hold hands unashamedly.
And this time next year? I have a feeling it will be different. My little girl will still be herself, but she’ll be six with a year of kindergarten under her belt. I can sense this next season in our life but I can’t see it yet. It’s blocked. Like a big thick black wall. But as we journey toward it, I know it’s about to make everything different.
Even though I sound mournful, I’m not. Just wistful. I’ve always said my heart grows with my children, so I’m not sad to see them grow.
But five? I think I’m going to miss it.