“Mama, can I sleep with you?”

As my six and a half year old drifts off to sleep next to me, I can’t help but stare at that thick, brown, little boy hair and think about how he’s really not so little anymore.

He still wants to sneak in my room on spring break, but he’s almost out of kindergarten, too. He’s starting to read, but he jumps into my arms for his nightly “hug”. He heads upstairs after school to build his own Lego masterpieces, but he sleeps curled up in his Thomas the Train blanket every night. He walks confidently into his class each morning, but he still holds my hand and requires a kiss on his squishy cheek when we get there.

As my oldest, every new thing he learns to do comes as a shock to me, but so does this juxtaposition between Little Man and Big Boy. I’m going to hold on to it as long as I can, though, before the boyness disappears.

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