I’m probably feeling a little over-sensitive today.  The last of our childhood pets passed away tonight.  McGinty, our nearly 14-year-old cat.  And, suddenly, it seems like everything is going too fast.

Robbie and I settled into the rocking chair tonight to read books, starting with Where the Wild Things Are.  Robbie always points to any character and tells me it’s QiQi.  Especially if it’s a little boy.  Tonight was different, though.  Tonight, for the first time, Robbie pointed to the wild things and named them Mommy, Daddy, QiQi, and Addie.  And then he pointed to the little boy and said, “Max.  See, Mom?”  It didn’t stop there…  Of course not.  He went on to tell me what happened next.  “Max go home, Mom.”

Robbie went on to specifically request Go, Dog.  Go!  By title.  And tell me, “Read monkeys jumping bed.”  And the best one of all?  “Aunt Halaree’s book, Mom.”  Which was the best for two reasons.  First, he has never said the “aunt” part of Halaree’s name.  Second, he knew that it was her voice reading to him.

As wonderful as it is that he knows characters and plots and titles, a little bit of it breaks my heart.  Every day he is getting further and further from the baby we brought home from the hospital.  He is so completely his own person and making so many connections every day.  And all I want is to slow time down, to keep him little enough to curl up in my lap to read books and only need a kiss to make all of his hurting go away.