So, Finn turned six this week. And that, combined with starting school a few weeks ago, seems to suit him.
His behavior is better. His language continues to improve. Heck, the kid even seems to be eating better. He's growing up and it looks good on him.
But at the same time, he is still my baby boy. Last night, he and I fell asleep while watching TV. When I woke up, he was snuggled against me, like he has done a million times since he was born. His arm still wraps around my arm, as he has done for comfort since he was old enough to coordinate the motion. In that moment, he could have been six months old rather than six years old.
I'm getting better at accepting this growing up stuff. That doesn't mean I don't long for the days when all I needed to do was cuddle and rock the boys and all would be right with the world (for them and for me). I know that there are things that will happen in their lives that I won't be able to fix. For now though, we're in the sweet spot where I can still make a boo boo better by kissing it and giving them some ice cream, but they can help clean up after dinner and dress themselves. I know this won't last too much longer, so I'm going to enjoy it while I can.
