It’s usually the small stuff that stops me in my tracks. Today, it was underwear.
I was folding laundry until I wasn’t. I was suddenly still, just staring at the transition.
There it was, so plain to see.
I looked down and saw the newest addition to the laundry pile: little boy boxer briefs. They are juxtaposed with his little boy briefs of yesterday. My newborn became my baby. My baby became my toddler. My toddler became my little boy. And now I have this little boy who wears boxer briefs! How did this happen!?
Okay, it happened because I bought them, obviously. But seeing the boxer briefs opposite a more immature version caused me to freeze. Just as I wish I could freeze the annoyingly persistent ticking of time. I want to keep him here, just as he is right now.
He still likes us. He is still curious. He still is sweet. And he is still innocent.
Oh, how I wish I could keep him here and protect him along with his sunny impression of the world. I know there are joys ahead, too.
But today I just wish I could keep him little. Where the most grown-up thing about him are these darn, albeit adorable, mini versions of grown-up underwear.
