I burst with pride every time I watch Kara master a new skill, whether it’s feeding herself or stacking beads on a stick. Even before her second birthday, she’s mastered the use of the potty. Just recently, we converted her crib to a “big girl bed,” and she seems to like being able to crawl into bed herself and letting me tuck her in. (And I like being able to reach that sweet face with a good-night kiss!) She’s starting to socialize with other people when we go to church or the playground. She’s learning to count, and she’s singing songs on her own. She’s growing up, and she’s doing it with flair and style.
I’ve heard many parents talk about how bittersweet it is to watch their babies grow, and I know my young one is still very young, but so far for me, there’s been no “bitter” in my “sweet.”
Maybe it’s because my mother impressed me with something she said when I was still pretty young: “So many parents have specific goals for their children, but I was just happy and excited to see what you liked and hear what you wanted to be.”
I have no desire to rush my baby into toddlerhood, or my toddler into a child, or my child into a preteen. But every step towards self-reliance she takes on her own, of her own accord, just tells me that Steve and I are doing our jobs well.