GROW: to spring up and develop to maturity; to increase in size by assimilation of material into the living organism; increase; expand
Despite my desire to keep him snuggle-sized forever, Son is growing up. That has become abundantly clear. The clues are stacking up:
Our calendar notes his first day of Kindergarten next week.
My back aches preemptively when he requests to be picked up.
When he comes to me for a bedtime snuggle, it is unclear which one of us is doing the holding. Parts of him still fit on my lap, but his arms and legs seem to extend for miles.
Husband backed Son up to the growth chart yesterday and discovered that he’s grown an inch just this summer.
We spent last night removing all the flood-friendly pants from his drawer as well as the shirts with neck holes that bring to mind “camel through the eye of a needle” analogies. (Son explained to me that his head grows faster than the rest of his body because that is the part that needs to expand to keep all his information.)
And, the final clue for a mom that might be in denial: the grocery cart catastrophe.
Yesterday’s trip to the grocery store began like all the others. Daughter hopped inside the cart and Son stood on the front. We made it through the produce section, picked up some bulk supplies, and headed for the diary cooler. That’s when Son’s weight on the front of the cart caused it to tip. So, there I was – a jug of milk in each hand looking down at Daughter doing a good impression of an upside down turtle inside the cart that was pinning her brother to the floor while a produce waterfall cascaded down on top of him.
Thankfully, the only casualty was a bruised banana.
But, it was a clear reminder that Son isn’t the little boy he once was. I need to adjust…starting with new rules about how we transport ourselves through the market. Turns out those pictoral warnings on the cart are for a good reason. Who knew?