The baby

My girl just keeps growing. There is something painfully nostalgic about the baby of the family. She's four. FOUR. And every time I see her do something significant I get emotional. I can't stop myself from thinking about how we will never experience that event again. Andy actually tried to console me today with the fact that we'll have grandchildren one day. Seriously? I am thirty five. Grandchildren aren't coming any time even remotely soon. And he was serious about it, too. I cry a lot in public because of these tender moments. Today, for example, I sobbed like a baby during her preschool Christmas music program. The really funny thing is, she is only in the three year old class. There is another year before "big school". But once I realized it, there was no turning back. I cried because of the little girl on the end that hid her face and cried on stage. Poor baby. She reminded me of my Jack at that age. Then I cried because of the vivacious, blond boy that waved at his Mommy the entire time. Isn't it great to be some one's hero? I especially cried, hard sobs, at the Grand mom in the row ahead of me that waved frantically and proudly during her baby's performance. "It is one song per class, for Pete's sake.", Jack reminded me. "I know, I'm a basket case. Isn't it embarrassing?", I replied. Because it is, there's no denying it. But, there's just something about a little child singing

and dancing (pictures from Lydie's ballet Christmas party)

that touches a soft spot. Especially when that child is my baby.

"...parenting will eventually produce bizarre behavior, and I'm not talking about the kids."~Bill Cosby