Childhood

Why does childhood have to go by so fast?

My own is now a hazy, patchy blur with only a few distinct memories: some funny, some not, some I wish I could trade in for ones that were forgotten.

Last night, as I played a song on the piano while my daughter sang the words with her sweet little girl voice, I thought, I am going to miss these days.

That was also my thought this morning as I was chasing my laughing, naked son around the kitchen with a sweatshirt in my hands, trying to aim just right so as to get his head through the hole on the first fly-by.

That was also my thought as I was scrubbing lunch out of my daughter's pants, and wiping the peanut butter off of her cute face five minutes before she had to catch the bus.

And as I cleaned up the counter after my daughter made her own pb&j for the first time.

And as I taped up another masterpiece by one of my daughters in the art gallery on my bedroom wall.

And as I snuggled in my bed with whoever got up first last Saturday morning.

And as I chased yellow, windblown leaves with my son at the park on the way home from the bus stop.

And as I read my son "just one more" story before his nap.

And as I sang my kiddos songs to them at bedtime.

And as I went into their rooms last night before I went to bed, pulled the matted hair back from their beautiful sleeping faces and gave them one more kiss goodnight.


I know that someday, they won't need me or want me to do these things for them.

And I know that I will wish they did.