Aidan

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about this little boy:

There's not much of this little boy left.  A little boy who used to wake up in the morning and say, "mommy, I want to play all day in the world."  When did he stop saying that?  A little boy who used to ask me a thousand questions a day.  Like, "Is God faster than a rocket?"  "Is God bigger than a giant pickle?"  and "How many people are in the world?  Can you tell me their names?"  "Did God make bad guys?"

A little boy who called his milk, "moo," and said, "lasterday" instead of yesterday.  When did he stop playing with toy trains all day?  When did he stop watching Thomas the Tank Engine?  We got those trains out the other day, he couldn't even remember their names.  He used to know every single one.  

When did he stop needing my help with getting a drink or a snack or taking a bath or getting dressed?  

I miss this little boy.  I wish we could go back in time for a day.  I would kiss those chubby cheeks again and rock him until he fell asleep in my lap.  I would snuggle on the couch with him and his teddy bear, Jackson.  I would give him a big sippy cup full of "moo."  And, we would watch Thomas.  I would answer every single question he could come up with, and love doing it.

I love the young man Aidan is becoming.  He loves to read, and play video games, and go to water parks.  He can swim and ride a bike and a scooter.  He is protective of his sister and loves to play with his friends.  He has traded in his toy guitar for an electric guitar, and he's learning to play.  I love the boy that he is now, but sometimes I miss this little boy.