I’m pretty sure I was delirious when some parent somewhere said, “Don’t worry. Eventually, he’ll be able to wipe his own butt.” I’m sure I stared them at disbelief.
Tonight, while home from school, E galloped into the bathroom, used the toilet, and returned to stand before me, wiggling himself back into his Paw Patrol underwear. When he pulled them up to his satisfaction, he reached back down for his pants, hitching them up around his legs before stopping, unable to work the pants over the rest of his body.
Rising, I helped him with the final few inches to reunite pants with waist and he smiled, joyful at his accomplishment and went back to chasing the cat.
I sat down, proud of what E can now do, and cried. I find myself so underprepared for these moments of transition and I have become so close to the verge of tears all the time. When they ultimately arrive, I can’t believe it because time seems to get compressed and what seemed like such a long way away (an eternity, if you will), happens in an eye blink.
Yet, here we are.
One year ago: #sol16: The Kid Stays in the Picture
This post is part of the Slice of Life Challenge, hosted by Two Writing Teachers, who have created a space for writers and teachers of writers to come together. To learn more about this challenge, click here.