GO.
He grasps my finger, his tiny little hands gripping mine with fervor. He’s determined to not let go, to hold firm in this adventure of walking. Taking these steps isn’t easy. They’re scary. Mommy’s got a firm hand to hold onto, and this little guy will not let go.
He grasps the floor with his feet, his little toes curling against the cold tile. His steps are short and shaky, but he squeezes mommy’s hand tightly and forges ahead.
He’s so much more cautious than his sister was, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he won’t be as independent. Maybe he won’t try to ride on elevators by himself. Maybe he’ll stay mommy’s little boy a little longer.
Maybe he’ll just keep grasping that finger. Or maybe he’ll let go and go on to master some new things.
That finger will always be there, held out for him to find if he ever needs it. But he’s so close to letting it go.
And maybe mommy will go on to grasp the fact that her little boy is getting to be a big boy.
STOP.
You know what's funny? Today was a bad day. My sweet boy was a drooling, cranky, teething mess, and yet this is what I write about when I'm not overthinking. As anxious as I am to get through the messes, I promise I'm still savoring the sweets. :)
