One day a couple weeks ago I went to get Littlefoot up and he wasn’t a baby anymore.

That’s how it happens. One day you’re stressing over giving up bottles and going from two naps to one, the next your boy wakes up looking just like a miniature version of his daddy.

I realize he’s only two and I will laugh about feeling this way when he’s five, and ten, and thirty.

He seems like such a big boy to me now, but one day (Lord willing) I will wonder how I ever felt that way about this toddler who barely strings sentences together and whose anthem is Bicycle by Queen (because, duh, bicycles).

But this is life right now, how I feel right now. My baby is not a baby anymore. I love watching him become himself. I feel so very privileged to be this boy’s mom.