Lately, I have been going through a lot of pictures, trying to sort them. I am undertaking a humongous scrapbooking project (of my own doing). You see, I have all of this scrapbooking stuff, and the pictures, and the room to do it in...yet it is not getting done.
Thus, the picture sorting. I am such a mushy person when it comes to my little one. Every time I start looking at pictures of him, I drift away. I can remember exactly how he felt in my arms, exactly how badly I hated being pregnant, and exactly the way he looked at me. Then I begin the whole "I wish he were that small again" process. He is getting so big now, even though he is only 4 1/2 years old, I still think he is HUMONGOUS compared to this:
That is the very first picture he ever took. You know, the one where the hospital photographer comes in and takes pictures and tries to sell you 40 million dollars worth right then when you are all sentimental. (It's EVIL!! I strongly urge you to resist the temptation!!) They know how to pull your strings. But, that is not what I am writing about. He is growing so fast, and even though I wish he were small again, so I could hold him in my arms and stare at him. I know that I would have to go through some of the more trying times all over again. Like the potty training, the food throwing, the dog tormenting...you get my drift.
And now that he is becoming his own little person, and truly testing my limitations...I still love him more than life itself. I honestly don't know what I would do without him crawling up to me in the morning with, "Mommy, get up! Can I watch cartoons?"
He is even adorable when he is dressed up as something scary:
And then he looks at me with those big brown eyes:
Life doesn't get much better.