Keeping him small

Dash is two (say it LOUD with index and middle fingers held up). And, I have to admit, he no longer looks the baby part. My soft, pudgy, neckless baby's morphosis into a leaner, taller toddler who can almost run faster than me (in heels) and carry on limited conversations with people is happening now and there's nothing I can do to to slow it down.

Knowing that my world with this little person, this toddler (soon to be preschooler) is set on high speed, I have a nightly ritual with him that I want to record here. Each evening I try to stop time, if just for a few minutes, during our before-bed routine. After we read a few books, I turn out his light, pick him up and hold him tightly; he drops his sweet little head on my shoulder, and I sway with him while singing him four or five lullabies before releasing him to his crib.

During this time, with only the nightlight shining in his darkened room, he is my baby, my little boy. The back of his neck still smells like baby, with lavender scent from his bath. I try not to notice that his feet are dangling close to my knees or that his arms are long enough to wrap around mine and hug me back.

Dash, I know we gave you an action verb for a name, but please don't grow up too fast.