Today I cried.

OK, not so much cried as misted-up. Here's the situation. The boys start kindergarten on Monday. Eddie has been having headaches and tummy aches for a couple of weeks and I strongly suspect them to be brought on by the stress of the unknown KINDERGARTEN.

This means that once again, I have to be the grown up in this relationship. SO unfair. Anyway, I've been doing a jolly good job of keeping my own emotions about this whole abysmal state of affairs in check. Then, today, driving back from Seattle where we saw A. the allergist and more importantly B. visited the Children's Museum, I glanced in the rear view mirror. This is what I saw:

Or, more accurately, that is what I saw with my eyes. With my heart, this is what I saw:

In his expression, his eyes, his nose and of course, his position, I could see that tiny, fragile baby I met 5 1/2 years ago. I loved him and his brother then, but honestly, not as much as I do now.
Still, I miss those babies. I miss the grinning, drooling, crawling babies they became and the giggling, mischievious toddlers who replaced them. I miss the inquisitive, creative, physical preschoolers who came after that.

Don't get me wrong. I want them to grow up and have amazing experiences and all that good stuff that parents are supposed to want for their children. It's just that I wish they'd do it all just a little more slowly. Because the past 5 1/2 years have rushed by so quickly I may lose my breath.