He’s Still My Baby



Sometimes I forget that he’s still little.
Compared to his brothers he’s gigantic.
I expect him to be the mature, responsible older brother.
But he’s only 5 years old, still a baby.
Still my baby.

Some days he looks and acts so grown up that I can see traces of the man he will become.
Yet I still catch glimpses of my sweet baby boy.
When falls asleep holding his blanket by his cheek like he did as a baby.
I see his chubby baby cheeks I loved to kiss.
Yet all the while his long legs dangle off the side of the bed reminding me that he’s not a baby any more.

He’s never been one to cuddle but on the rare occasion he wants to sit with me I take the opportunity to carefully examine his features like I’ve done so many times.
Noticing the contours of his face becoming more angular than his previously pudgy baby face.
His long fingers and the way he holds his toys with precision and care.
His thin frame that is almost an exact replica of his father’s build.
I can almost see him begin to transform into a young man right there.
Becoming taller and stronger and more confident.
His growing up before my eyes and I hardly have time to notice.

He wants to do all the things the big kids do and already has big dreams for his future.
I love to hear his plans to become a builder, writer, a Lego set creator or whatever his obsession is this week.
I know that he will become a man of great passion that accomplishes so many wondrous things.
But for now and for always… he’s still my baby.





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