I didn't tear up when my boys said their first words, took their first steps, or blew our their first birthday candles. I cherish those memories, but they don't bring tears to my eyes.
So why was I getting misty when L learned Pig Latin today? Something about those mixed-up syllables brought me back to my own childhood, and made me see L through a different lens. Less the boy of my very own, more a boy of his very own.
I remember having that same moment with M.
It was around this point last year that M asked for a haircut. L's still holding strong.
I may not have any babies left, and I can handle that. But please L, please never take those perfect, curly piggy tails away from me.