Bear's front tooth is wiggly.
This is one of those tiny markers whispering change that happens a thousand times as babies grow, suddenly, into boys. I remember always watching as he carefully backed off the couch in his wobbly toddler years. One day he stopped doing that and just hopped off facing forward, but... when?
Now I say "Get up and put your shoes away and please don't make me ask you again or no more show." Just like that. I would no more watch him get off the couch than I would watch him eat grapes. 👀🍇🙄 Tiny changes happen so often and so slowly you think you're stuck in time. Groundhog Day, I always called it. Until one day he says "I'm not drinking out of that baby cup anymore." 😧 This phenomenon is so common it's silly to acknowledge after a while, but when I felt that soothsaying tooth the other day all I could think was time is ticking on this awesome age (six and a half). Sure I will always celebrate the progression, and inevitably remember those who can't because of health limitations or death. I just will. But I also want to freeze time and savor these days of shopping in gift stores with Bear ("Mom, look at these amazing journals. Should I get one?") and hiking behind him to watch his curious little body, skinnier and faster every day. You know I'm tempted to breathe so deeply of the freedom of not having to monitor a toddler 😴 that I just let the leash run all the way out when I'm with him and stare at my phone, because I could now and he wouldn't notice (or die). Man oh man I'm not doing that! He is the best and he gets better every day.