Sometimes it takes me noticing the gap between the bottom of your pants and your shoes, where your socks are showing plainly, for me to realize how fast you are growing. I could swear those pants fit you just last week.
There is going to be a time, coming much too quickly judging by your rapidly shrinking clothes, that you are going to want more time to yourself, more time with friends, and less time with me. So I'm going to try to remember everything I can from this time now.
I want to remember you reading. You lay on your back on the couch, the book held above your head, reading Calvin and Hobbes, giggling loudly to yourself.
I want to remember our conversations. For example, doing spelling practice this week:
Me: Bug, how did you do on your pre-test?
Bug: I missed one.
Me: Great job!
Bug: What?! I said I missed one.
Me: But they were all new words. Only missing one is good. It's not like you missed 12 out of 14.
Bug: Yeah. That would be the end of the world.
Me: No. No it wouldn't. The end of the world is worse, like when someone you love dies.
Bug: No. Actually, the end of the world is when a huge comet hits the planet.
The entire time we are talking, I can't believe we are having this conversation. How did it get to the point we can have conversations like this, and you make witty remarks?
I want to remember even the slightly painful things: like the fact you won't hug me in front of your friends anymore.
I want to remember how you still sleep with your stuffed tiger, Stripey. Because you are my very own, much better behaved, Calvin and Hobbes. Because a boy still needs his tiger.
I want to remember how are proud and protective of your little brother. You are always pointing out cute things he is doing, telling him how great his drawings are, congratulating him on the fantastic block tower he built. You are a good big brother, despite how difficult Monkey can make it for you sometimes.
I want to remember how you said you weren't sure you wanted to go to college, because that means you would have to move away, and you like being home with us. You say it makes you sad to think about moving away someday.
I want to remember that now, even at this age, you want to read together each night, and get a piggyback ride to bed. You still want me to tuck you under the covers and kiss you goodnight.
I know that all these things are going to change. So I'm doing my best to remember.