We are shoe shopping again and Ian's pants are too small, and I find myself groaning not for the lack of funds to clothe my children (well that too), but for my babies that aren't going to be babies forever.
I have a funny feeling that in 10 years, Ian won't want to hold my hand. Or kiss my lips. Or lay his heavy head into my neck. Or brush my hair.
Addie isn't going to ask my permission to use nail polish. She won't be kissing my owies. Her bum won't fit into my hand. And she won't be wrapping her body around my torseau and clinging to me when she is scared of loud noises.
I hope she still says "Mom, we're the girls" and "You're my best friend" like she does now. And that Ian will still tell everyone he meets that I am his mom...with that proud inflection in his voice.
Oh--Ache my heart for little feet, little hands, little voices, little noses, little kisses, little laughs and little shoes.
Just stay little.