It just hit me that my son is no longer a toddler and is now a preschooler.

PRESCHOOLER.

And he doesn’t toddle anymore. He doesn’t even walk. He RUNS. EVERYWHERE. And let me tell you, this kid is fast. He’s growing more and more into a little boy. A big kid.

I’m not ready for this.

See, we often get those¬†catalogs in the mail that are filled with pictures of kids’ toys. One arrived in the mail the other day. I like to flip through them and see what’s out there. I was thumbing through the toddler section and became slightly dismayed to see that Nathan wouldn’t be interested in most of those toys. I turned the page and GOLDMINE! It was filled with all kinds of toys Nathan would find intriguing. And then I looked up at the top of the page and saw the glaring words “PRESCHOOLERS AGES 3-4.”

Preschooler.

The word tastes funny in my mouth. It seems so… old… somehow. So grown-up and yet not. A contradiction. I have a preschooler and yet he’s still just a baby.¬†It took me a while to get used to calling Nathan a toddler rather than an infant. And just when I became accustomed to that, he morphed into a preschooler right in front of me.

Watching your kid grow is a funny thing. I find myself becoming emotional over things like the thought of getting his first hair cut (It took him over two years to grow his hair; he was completely bald up until a few months ago. And now he has a mop on his head, and cutting it will be a bittersweet moment indeed.) and every time he goes up a size in shoes. There are so many firsts, so many changes, and it all happens so quickly. I just want to press a pause button and breathe him in before he grows any more…

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