Seems like I've been writing a lot about my little man lately.
He's just in such a fun phase right now, at the ripe old age of three and a half.
For both of my kids, three has been a tough age at first.
The bigger body + bigger tantrums = bigger back and headaches for mama.
Then there is this magical shift, half way through that year, when the child realizes life is not a fight and that cute gets you what you want. So now he's all about smiling his coy smile and trying to win us over with his brilliant logic. For Example: Yes! Yes we do eat candy for breakfast! And no, no I didn't eat another candy cane off the tree (says a minty-breathed little man).
He's making comparisons and drawing conclusions. Lately I've discovered that he can even recognize numbers up to 10 (his preschool teacher deserves a medal) and some letters too. It's not that I'm bragging, it's just that I'm suddenly amazed at the leaps he's taking. I've been trying really hard to tune in and savor this moment in time.
This morning I bought him some jammies while I was out because when he got out of bed earlier I laughed at how short the pants and shirt on his current ones are on his growing arms and legs. They are a size 3T and he is three. Why are they so small?!
So I had to go across the aisle at the store. Into the bigger boys' clothes.
No more toddler section for my kids.
My heart aches a little, gazing across at the teeny tiny clothes. I take a deep breath and realize we are entering a new phase of life. He's already got on his new jammies. The ones with "Lego bad guys" as he calls them. The size 4 fitting perfectly.
No more toddler sized clothes for him. And he's not even a little sad about it.
I won't let on that maybe I am. Just a little.