Dear Father Time, Stop Running In The Hallway

This morning I dropped my baby off at the front door of his school per his request for the first day of his 4th grade career.  How can this possibly be when his father and I were just standing in the discharge room of the hospital with our newborn, trying to figure out the rocket scientist designed car seat we forgot to assemble just yesterday? 

Earlier in the week a friend of mine posted on her Facebook page that she corrects her children when they correctly pronounce blueberries instead of bluebabbies, and all those other sweet little nuggets of  "baby English" every parent adores.  Packed away in my attic are baby books and calendars I spent countless hours detailing every time Carl sneezed, drooled, rolled over or breathed; where are those now?  That post from my friend reminded me of Carl saying lasterday instead of yesterday and when he used to call Halloween, Forever Halloween, and how I actually threatened to kill Trey if he even thought about correcting him.   Those sweet, precious words.  Lasterday and Forever Halloween were my trinkets of pure joy, sprinkled with that dear sweet melody that makes your heart swell; something that can only come from the sound of your child's voice.        

Weren't there others?  What was that darling phrase Carl used to say when he held my face in his yummy little hands, while looking at me with those chocolate brown eyes; a mirror of my own.  How could I have forgotten when at that moment I was positive that treasure was imprinted on my heart and stored in my mind forever?  And here I sit in a panic trying to recall what he wore that first day of Kindergarten and in what drawer I've filed his picture along with countless others I promised myself to place in a photo album.  Did I remember to pack away that outfit along with those embarrassing baby pictures to pull out during the first time Carl brings home a "girl friend"?  You know, the pictures only a parents can appreciate those cherished memories associated with the one at 2 years old in just a diaper, cowboy hat and boots holding a sticky Popsicle?   Please Lord tell me I'll uncover them again one day.

I didn't sleep much last night; instead spending my time in the doorway of Carl's room watching him in a peaceful slumber with his long tan limbs reaching the end of his bed.  Clutched to his side was Teddy his faithful bear and on the floor beside him was the shirt and shorts he set aside for today, his first day of 4th Grade.  And as I leaned against the door glancing at the pictures, school projects, graded papers and sport trophy's that line the walls catching moonbeams peering in from the curtains I hear myself saying, "Slow down Father Time, stop running in these hallways.  Let me keep my baby like this just a moment more".

1st day of 4th Grade

2 Years Old