Getting Older (OFF #3)

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen this day coming. It had only been a matter of time.

But six years seemed to have gone by in a mere second.

She watched as he blew out his birthday candles, a look of pure delight on his face as he surveyed the cake and gifts and balloons. So happy to have his day, to be older.

She wasn’t as convinced it was a good thing.

When did he learn to read? Or tie his shoes? Or add and subtract and ride without training wheels?

When did he outgrow diapers and bottles and naps?

When did he start sleeping in his own bed?

She remembered feeling relief at the times that he accomplished all those things.

Now, call her crazy, but she almost missed him. Missed his warm little body snuggled against her all night. Missed rocking him to sleep and singing lullabies. Missed feeding him and dressing him and being his only source of entertainment.

She wasn’t one of those mothers who found sentiment in every little thing. She didn’t cry at his milestones or pine for days gone by.

At least, not usually.

When had he transformed from being utterly exhausting and draining to her very being to independent and fun to be with? She did not miss the irony that in another six years, she would be the exhausting one and he would wish she’d be independent from him.

But he still needed her. He still begged her to read him stories and watch him play and let him have a sleepover in her bed. He still let her hold him on his lap every so often and held her hand when they crossed streets.

And now he told her he loved her.

Maybe growing up wasn’t all bad.

Author's note: I realize this is more of a vignette than flash fiction, but I wrote it in honor of Thing One who turns six today.