It’s been about three weeks since Oliver took his first wibbly, wobbly steps alone. Yearning to follow the bigger boys around for a while now, he’s been determinedly working on his newfound skill. All the practice has been paying off and he’s becoming steadier and more confident each day.
Watching the little ones grow and become more independent is so bittersweet to me. I remember feeling with the oldest two, and particularly Ben, being the firstborn, how I couldn’t wait for him to start solid food, couldn’t wait for his first word, first tooth, first steps. Now with each first I feel happy, of course I do, but also a little sad too at how quickly they grow. I want to stop the everyday part of life and just cherish the small things. But time doesn’t stop. And unfortunately some of the memories will fade or disappear completely.
For now, I’m enjoying watching him on his new adventure. Earlier on I noticed how he likes to mumble to himself as he walks drunkenly along. Not literally drunk but you know what I mean. Mumbling or singing to himself as he swaggers and staggers trying to get from one room to another. It’s funny to watch. And to think, in another fifty years it’ll be me swaggering and staggering while mumbling and singing to myself.
Wonder if I’ll look as cute?