You no longer need help at bath time. You can pour your own drinks and get your own snacks. You want to fix your toys by yourself when they break. You have become my little Miss Independent.
I’m glad that you can (and want) to do things for yourself. But truthfully, it makes me a little sad. It means you’re getting older. It means you’re technically not my baby anymore. But really, you always will be, no matter what.
And therein lies my dilemma. My eyes see you getting older and more independent. But, my heart and my mind want it to stop! They want you to stay little as long as possible. That’s the thing about watching you grow. I have to let you go, little by little. I don’t want to. Not just yet.
So, I’ll keep offering to help dry your hair. To get you something from the kitchen if I’m going in there. Or to switch out the old batteries for new ones. And when you say, “no, I’ll do it myself,” I’ll try to smile.