Keys

Yesterday, we disassembled Benett's crib. It was time... for him to be out of the crib and into a "Big Boy Bed."

For me, on the other hand, it definitely was not time for this milestone. I'm not sure why I do this to myself, but the sentimental part of me is tortured by these kinds of things... these milestones that make me acknowledge the sobering reality that the little people won't be little forever. They're growing up.

Last night, Benett was excited about his new sleeping arrangements. He was seeing his bedroom in a new way... from a different vantage point... with big boy eyes. He was excited to jump on a big boy bed.

But to me, that big bed made my little boy even smaller. He looked so tiny, trying to snuggle into the large expanse. A little like the infant version of him looked when we first brought him home and laid him to snooze for the first time in his crib. The crib he's now outgrown.

The world revolved around that tiny human sleeping in that large crib. The sun still rises and sets for him. Though, I'd say that for all of my little people. They're each miraculous and amazing and the center of my world. Singularly and together, all at once.

Even though they're growing so fast, some things from infancy remain in our home. Rocking chairs which have rocked to and fro countless times... working their rhythmic magic on infant and adult alike. Warm blankets made with love for each of the little people are loved right back by each of them... especially as they cling to them in order to fall asleep...

Yes, much of the baby things have been tucked away... not yet parted with... that may never happen, especially if the sentimental me has her way. Those things are like keys that unlock the memories that my heart treasures most.