Tonight, I put my 2 year old to bed for the last time.
Tomorrow, he will wake up my 3 year old.
I got to put him to bed, since Jamie got stuck at work.
I read him as many stories as he wanted.
We sang some songs together.
He asked for the “Jesus Bible one” (Jesus Loves Me) and
“Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes”
I tried really hard not to cry.
I'm not trying any more, since he's sleeping now and won't see me.
I'm not ready for 3.
Three year olds go to preschool, and they turn into 4 year olds.
I don't know if I can handle my baby being a 4 year old.
But first I'll let him work on being a 3 year old.
For a year or so, I think.
Then I'll get used to him being 3, and he'll turn 4.
It happens every year.
He's my only baby.
I don't get to have a 2 year old again.
We're done with that now.
He became the best 2 year old he could be, and now he gets to try his hand at 3.
And he'll be amazing at it.
I have no doubt.
But that doesn't make it any easier for me, being done being 2.
It makes me want to apologize to my mom for growing up.
It makes me regret every time I wished the days would hurry up.
It makes me appreciate each day even more.
We've finished our 365 days of two-ness.
Of me mothering, of him being.
Now we move on to three-ness.
Happy Birthday to my sweet, sweet boy.