Today it is neither my special needs son nor whining that is burning on my mind -- it is my youngest son, heretofore referred to as "Baby Boy". He is 3 now and insistent that he is neither a baby nor a little boy, but in fact a big boy. I'm going to let him win this one - "Big Boy" he is now.
Earlier this week I picked Big Boy up from preschool. His teacher dismissed him and he emerged from his classroom like a miniature man in jeans and a little backpack. It hit me, and hit me hard, how quickly his childhood is passing, like sand slipping through my fingers. I feel like we somehow haven't been doing enough. That is one of the beauties of preschool though -- preschool is in many ways a celebration of being little and enjoying all the things that at that age inspire wonder. I am so thankful that Big Boy gets to be a part of that celebration, and that he has this time away from home when he is Big Boy first and not a little brother. He gets to be a shining star, all on his own and it suits him well.
