Today my son’s “big boy” bed arrives. Last night as we finished up our routine of books I held him and whispered, “Tonight you will sleep on that mattress for the last time. That is the mattress you have slept on since the first night you came home from the hospital as a baby. You’ve always been a good sleeper. Yes, you’d wake up in the middle of the night to eat but that’s what babies do. I’d feed you and change your diaper and burp you like this. Then I’d rock you to sleep like this.”
He loves to hear stories about when he was a baby. He feels so old that he cannot believe these things happened. He giggles as I pat his back for burps and rock him.
He’s ready for the big boy bed. My husband’s ready for the big boy bed. Me? I know change is inevitable but I still fight it. My son is not so little anymore. I mourn every stage that we leave. Yet I know it gets better and better as my son’s personality becomes more and more defined. My husband knows this about me and gently pushes for the next car seat, the bed, etc. He’s so logical about these things and so good about prepping me for the next stage.
After school my son and I will come home to a “big boy” bed set up in his room. He will squeal with delight when he sees the new Lion Guard bedding his dad chose for him as a special surprise. I will smile at my son’s excitement and pride in being so big. But it will be bittersweet.