On Wednesday, 2.0 will be five months old. He’s been wearing 9 months clothing for a couple weeks now.
Mini Gwinn has gone from a size 7 shoe to a size 9 over the course of the summer. He started the season in 2T, and now 4T shirts are fitting beautifully.
My kids are growing like weeds.
Earlier this week we were at Home Depot, Mini Gwinn’s favorite store (he loves all the door knobs and the race car carts), and I saw a gorgeous plank of Poplar on which I imagined a rustic growth chart for the boys. I envisioned the plank, colored with age, marked with different heights and dates over years. In an instant I could see the marks over my own head, and my heart sighed. One day, my children will be too tall for me to sweep into my arms. One day, they will be too embarrassed by the flurry of kisses all over their faces. One day I will be nostalgic for this day.
It was a silly, errant thought to have in the middle of the lumber department of the store. As we were perusing the types of wood we would like to use for our privacy fence, my mind was wandering through the future of the home where we will raise our boys. The pitter patter of their bare foot steps will be replaced by stomps weighted with size and age. In this time of our lives, when we are looking at our (hopefully!) new home and planning for the immediate future, my mom brain was focused on something far down the line. I was pulled back into the present as Mini Gwinn’s voice echoed through the warehouse, and I watched his long, lean legs carry him down the aisle as my husband chased him.