We live in a very old house. It appears in the 1895 census so it is at least over 110 years old. the stairs at steep and always makes me nervous when I go up and down. It makes me absolutely shiver with fear when my children go down. Sebastian is tall enough to hold on to the hand rail. Abigail on the other hand has not been tall enough. We have insisted, much to her disgust, that she go down backwards. She hates that. She wants t do what ever Shake (Seb) does.
Today my daughter walked down our stairs standing up tall holding on to the hand rail. All by herself. She was so proud of herself. I shed a few tears. My baby is growing up.
And this is how it goes. From the minute a child are born everything they do serves the purpose to make them independent, separate from you. If you are a good parent everything you do contributes to this. You want to raise adults, not big people who are dependent on you. But sometimes, just for a moment, I want the whole process to stop. I want to keep them little. I want them to need me. I want to carry them down stairs. I want to always tuck them into bed and read them a story. I want to pick out what they wear. I want to feel their little hands in mine and feel them breath when they cuddle with you.
A few days ago I went to pick up Sebastian. I suddenly realised he was too big for me to carry. Oh my god, when did that happen? I am now insisting on carrying Abigail everywhere, just so that doesn't happen without me noticing. I know that can't last forever and I know I don't want it to. But why must it all happen oh so fast?