Yep. That’s what I find myself telling my seven-year old more often than not. And every time I say it to him, he looks at me with a sappy smile, straightens up his back, sits up tall (as grown little boys do) and asks me if it makes me sad because he’s growing up.
Um… yes! I am ridiculously sad. Can’t we just turn back the hands of time? Or better yet, pause it indefinitely? Surely, I’m not the only mom that feels this way. Right?
I mean sure, I want him to grow up at some point. But not right now. And not even in 20 years from now. I want him to be my baby boy, always. To run to me when he scratches his knee. Or pluck the cactus needles from his tush (still can’t believe that happened)! To curl up next to me while we’re watching a movie, and fall asleep in a loose embrace. To ask me what this means and that means, and that means and this means (you know that’s never-ending). To tell me how his day went at school and to tell me that he loves me fifteen hundred million times infinity (yeah, he’s pretty precise).
I hear so many parents of grown children tell me “You better enjoy it while they’re young,” or my favorite, “You blink and they’re all grown up!” Well, I don’t want to blink!
I know he’s only seven, but before I know it he’ll be seventeen, graduating high school, driving, working, dating (ugh, don’t even remind me). He doesn’t have to date, right? Don’t answer that.
So, until I figure out how to stop time, I will continue to enjoy all our moments together, and enjoy him being my seven-year old little boy. And of course, I’ll keep telling him every chance I get to stop growing!