Hanging with the Big Kids
Tonight, as I picked up a mostly sleeping little girl from a car seat and hefted her into the crook of my right arm, balancing the bag of toys and clothes in my other hand, I realized that Teagan just isn’t a baby anymore.
This is a rather absurd observation, in the sense that she will turn 17 months tomorrow, and she has not technically been a “baby” for a while now. She walks. Mutters a bit. Follows instructions (sometimes). Laughs. Chews her food. Plays tricks. Dances. Has a unique personality. She is a little person, and has been for some time.
But today, I could just feel the difference. Not sure why, or why today, but it was, and is, the case. She’s bigger, and a wee bit more difficult to carry. She’s not a baby.
And every day, she’ll get just a little bit harder to carry. I’ve experienced this with my older daughter, but not with Teagan. It’s both wonderful and dreadful. And not at all easier than the first time this happened to me. I can’t begin to fathom what it’ll be like when I won’t be able to twirl either of them around, listening and watching for giggles and laughter.
While I wouldn’t trade it for anything, parenting definitely brings with it some bittersweet moments.
Being a daddy is one long process of letting go.