“Mom,” he announced, walking into the kitchen last night. (I still want to be Mommy–at least until he turns seven.) “I need to count my chest hairs.”
Ever since my children were born, I’ve been known to be a little crazy about milestones. First bath. First holidays. First teeth, first solid foods, first steps. So many firsts, too many to count and capture. Each one passing by so fast, marking how quickly time really does go.
But this moment? I really wasn’t ready.
I watched in amusement as he hiked up his shirt, revealing his skinny little tummy and ribcage, pale from months of winter.
“Hmmmm… well, that was easy to count! Zero!” And he went on his way, delaying this first for (hopefully) quite a bit longer.