Hands and Knees

Dear Aaron,

I lay in bed at night, waiting for you to sleep, and think about all the things I should be doing. Scrapbooking. Journaling. I've written you a thousand letters in these dark hours, but none seem to make it to paper in the daylight hours. The more I blog, though, the more I realize that this space has become your digital baby book. I know others like seeing the photos of you and hearing what you're up to, but I think the one who will appreciate it the most someday is... YOU! Now I just have to figure out how to preserve these posts in a less digital format. But that's a project for another day.

You crawled on your hands and knees for the first time last night. We've been waiting, since you've been scooting around on your belly since March. You finally figured it out, motivated by the black silicone serving spoon that has become your favorite toy - you moved yourself all the way across the room to taste that rubbery handle. :-)

Watching you crawl made my heart do a flip-flop. It was so exciting to see that you're growing and learning, figuring out how things work and exploring everything. Like most every other mom in the world, I think you are the smartest baby ever. But my heart did a flip-flop, too, because I know that these first scoots toward that black spoon are your first real scoots away from me. You're zooming around the living room now, but soon you'll be asking dad for the car keys to zoom around town. That will come before we know it - before we're ready, certainly.

As you flopped back onto your belly and played with your prize, I scooped you up into my arms and celebrated your achievement, smelling your sweet baby smell and feeling your temporary smallness. I kissed your downy hair. We marked the date on the chart on the fridge. "Good job, Pooh Bear! Our big boy!" we sang together.

There will be lots more milestones to come, most bigger than this first crawl towards a black spoon. And this is how I want to remember them: I'll hold you close and celebrate your uniqueness in that small moment in time. Your growing will be remembered in a series of hugs, each with a boy who's a little bit bigger.

Then I'll get down on my own hands and knees and praise the God who's growing you so well.