Growing Up

"I don’t want Charlie to grow up," said Sally recently. "He's not a baby anymore." She's right. Her brother's changing almost hour by hour at present - he's got a vocab of, oh about half-a-dozen words; he's walking, climbing onto furniture, throwing balls and crawling round the carpet pushing toy cars, going 'brrrr, brrrr'. He's not a baby. He's a little boy. And he's changed so very quickly. I'm lucky. My day job looking after Charlie means that I can see the changes as they happen. It's a bit like watching a flower opening (but rather more exciting). I can tell Sarah all sorts of exciting (to us!) things when she comes home from work. And there’s something happening almost every day. Not much, maybe; something small, but out of tiny acorns and all that…

But it’s gone on long enough as far as Sally is concerned. If, like a dog, Charlie could perform a few tricks and remain the same, everything would still be fine. But all these changes are a sign of something – he is changing, growing, learning and developing and he's doing it all so quickly. Nothing stays the same, but I find myself sometimes sympathising with her point of view. It can be hard sometimes to find the words to express such feelings, but a day or two ago I found these. They seem to sum things up quite well:

You’re not a baby any more

My baby boy;

You’re growing up too fast,

Sweet baby boy.

And as I tuck you in at night,

Kiss your head and say ‘sleep tight’,

I wonder where the time has gone

My baby boy.