The passing of time. Again.

It's a funny thing about time, you know. That you can't stop it and all. That it just keeps going and going and these children keep getting bigger and bigger. I don't notice it so much as each day goes by. They look the same and act the same, until they don't. Until one day the can ride their bike and pump on a swing and do monkey bars and be big. Until one day when they're getting ready for school, again, but this year they won't even be learning to read because they already can and they'll be learning hard math and have real homework. Until one day, on the eve of a big day, when you suddenly realize that you'll no longer have a one-year-old in your house, probably ever again, and it just all feels so final. And the thing is, I know I will love that two-year-old fiercely, if possible even more fiercely than as a one-year-old, and she will continue to make me laugh, and she'll start talking, and she'll even poop on a potty one day! And the other thing is, as much as I want to keep them the same age as they are today, and as much as I miss holding a baby, I don't ever wish them to go backwards. I wouldn't want to lose who they are today to reclaim who they were yesterday.

And so, Ava, on the eve of your second birthday, I will let you grow up, get big, take flight. As if I could stop you. But please, for me, do it slowly so I can try to keep up.