Lite Bright.

There's a Lite Bright in my bathroom that I'm not allowed to move. My sweet girl worked on the My Little Pony hot air balloon design today for an hour. She then took it into the bathroom because it gets really dark in there so she could enjoy her work and the "light" that makes it glow. We were both so proud of her work as we celebrate in the dark together. She, in fact, is so proud that the design is never to be moved or " messed up by Buddy." So, it remains in there. The Lite Bright got me thinking. There are all kinds of things around the house that are simple reminders that we have two little people in our lives.

 These things will someday disappear, just like the design she worked so hard on today. Art work and baby wipes and plastic jewelery and sippy cups will be replaced with more grown up things. The tiny clothes that I fold and the baby shoes that I place in closets will go away. One day bath toys won't litter my tub and magnets won't dominate my refrigerator doors. Robots and dolls won't line the stairs. It's going to be different, and I just don't want it to be. I want my babies little. I want them to wear tiny clothes. I want them to speak tiny voices. I want them to need their blankies, and want their mama when they cry, and not know all of the things that go on in the world. I want to protect them. I want to overprotect them and that be okay because they are babies. I forever want to strap them in car seats before we go on a ride. I want them young and beautiful and innocent. I want the Lite Bright in my bathroom.

About once a month the babes and I will be ripping through the aisles of Target or out for lunch and an older gentleman with wise eyes or a sweet grandmother will stop me and say, "Enjoy this. You're gonna miss it." I swear it happens all the time. And you know what? It's like a punch in the gut. It makes me weak. You know why it hurts? Because it's already happening. I know how true these words are. The baby days of Regan are already slipping. The harder I try to grasp them, the further they slip sometimes.  I know the man with the wise eyes who whispers that the days are shorter than them seem once rocked his babies and sang them songs. And now, he is eating alone at Panera Bread reminding me to enjoy my babies. I wonder where his are. Did they move away? Did they call him today? Are they married? Did he get to walk his daughter down the aisle? Did they ever go on "worm hunts" together?

Tonight, my friends, I'm just not okay with anything but my babies being babies.