- At bedtime, Griffin sitting alone in the yellow glider chair, finishing his milk. I knelt down on the floor in front of him, smiled at his little face and asked "Do you want more milk?" He grinned, then scooted forward in the chair until my neck/upper torso was between his chubby, bruised-up little legs. Then, sighing happily, he collapsed upon me, wrapped his entire body around mine like a koala bear, nestled his head (the hair on it I cut - badly - today) into my neck and shoulder, cooed happily, and said "It's okay, Mommy - it's okay."
- Yesterday on the playground, Carter climbed up on the high slide, the freestanding one that curves in a corkscrew down to the ground. There was a birthday party and the park was filled with older, aggressive children, playing a spirited game of tag (or something similar - I heard shouts of 'castle' and 'king'). A group of them, shouting, bumping and boisterous, climbed to the top of the slide where Carter was standing, watching, a precious Hot Wheels car clutched tightly in each hand. I watched him watch them, wide-eyed and fascinated, so awed by their older-boy world of new games and adventure. I was so worried they would knock him down, or that he would be afraid amidst the bustle of larger, rougher children, but when I called his name he just said "I'm not scared, Mommy" and stood right there in the thick of it, watching the action.
My heart broke a little, watching him. Seeing him grow, knowing he doesn't need me like he used to. My heart. My heart, standing up there at the top of the metal stairs and the corkscrew slide.