9 months old!

Tonight, I visited a newborn in the same hospital I delivered Sam exactly nine months ago. And as I held that new baby boy, I could not for the life of me remember Samuel's sweet little face on the day he was born. I could imagine that smile of his I've fallen in love with, his eyes that beam with joy, and those precious cheeks (both sets), but his face, his beautiful newborn face, eluded me. It made me so very sad. It all happens way too quickly. They're tiny bundles wrapped in blue blankets with toboggan-covered fuzzy heads, and then they're 9-month olds crawling and rolling and chatting and creating all sorts of mischief. And, in just a blink, he'll be one, and then two and then sixteen and then gone. Listen to me, teary eyed and blubbery! What will I do when he heads off to school for the first time. I'll tell you what I'll do--cry.
Speaking of school and crying, Kate starts preschool this coming Tuesday. And, just to clarify, I'll be the one crying, not her. I know I sound a bit dramatic, but here's the thing: occasions like today (and the one I know is waiting on Tuesday) serve to remind me to cling to each day of their childhood and make it as wonderful, as magical, as loving, as joyful as I can. It's easy to think of childhood as an abstraction, but their childhood is today, right now. It goes by so very fast, and I want to hold onto it with all my might.