When The Baby turns five, you’ll breathe a big sigh of relief. You’ve made it out of the baby years with your sanity in tact. No more diapers. He can mostly feed himself. He puts on his own pants. He can play independently. He can tell you what he needs and sometimes he can even help meet his own needs. But that sigh of relief will catch in your throat.
It went by too fast. He was just a teeny thing. Just squishy and precious and you would drink in his smell and dance cheek-to-cheek in the midnight hours when the whole rest of the world was asleep. He would charm anybody with his smile and because he was The Baby, you knew how fast these days would go. You did your best to do what the old ladies at the grocery store always told you to do— you cherished every moment. But all of your cherishing couldn’t slow down time and the day is finally here. The Baby is five.
So with an odd mix of grief and delirious excitement of newfound freedom, you sell or giveaway the pack n’ play and the high chair and the stack of sippy cups and bibs that have been in a forgotten kitchen cabinet for too long. You feel a sense of nostalgia when you see the toddler at church wearing the once favorite t-shirt of your once tiny son that you passed along. You’ll find yourself wandering through the baby toy aisle or the racks of little clothes only to remember you aren’t in that stage anymore. You put the Little People farm in the box to give away, only to realize maybe the grandkids will want to play with that someday.
That’s when it hits you. Grandkids. Will that be the next time you’re buying little outfits and picking up a highchair again? The Baby is five. He’s still little. He still needs you. But he’s not a baby. Sometimes that thought makes you deeply sad. But sometimes it reminds you that you’ve entered a beautiful new season together.
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