Today during Church Talmage asked to sit on my lap.
His feet nearly touched the floor as they dangled down in front of me,
and his upper body blocked my view.
He was too big to make it a comfortable experience for either one of us, really,
but I held him close all the same,
because I knew that it was one of the last times he would ever ask to sit on my lap.
Have you ever read this book?
It's a definite tear-jerker...
it addresses how we, as parents, celebrate the "firsts" of our children--
their first steps, their first word, their first time riding a bike--
but we can't celebrate or make note of their "lasts" most of the time,
because we never know when they will be.
Was today the last time my oldest boy will ask to sit on my lap?
When will I read him the last storybook?
When will he last say his prayers aloud for me to hear?
It's amazing how, as parents, we experience such a paradox of emotions
as we yearn to go back to the past and make it last longer and yet simultaneously anxiously anticipate the future.
My goal is to be present enough in the here and now that I can fully appreciate every moment,
whether it is a first, a last, or one of the multitude that falls in between.
despite your lanky body and long legs,
you were my baby for a little longer.