Another First

It seems that once your kids are walking and talking and potty trained, the milestones slow down a bit. You stop watching the calendar, counting down the days until he can cry it out, toddle across the room and eat his first PB&J, and you settle into normal life, where you seldom know what day it is and catch yourself when you almost forget that his first word was "baa" (ball). And suddenly, your little guy starts wearing holes in the knees of his jeans (and socks) and ardently expresses his opinion when it comes to his upcoming fifth birthday party. Cliche or not, the time it flies as babies become big kids.

Yep, that's a lightning bolt onesie -- Andy's first official act as Daddy.

But the milestones still come. The trick is slowing down enough to catch them. To remember them and jot them down so that, just as you will always remember his first word that he thoughtfully saved for his mama's birthday, you will also always remember that his first bad dream was about rainbow-colored ants. And in the rush of getting out the door this morning, I am oh so grateful that he wandered into the bathroom still sleepy-eyed but anxious to tell me about it (because my light-sleeping husband answered his middle-of-the-night call before I even stirred).

And it goes like this (in Porter's words).

I was outside and there were ants all over the ground. They were all different colors -- not just black -- like red and orange and blue and green and yellow and purple and turquoise [which he pronounces toourrrr-coys] and all the other colors. And when I kneeled down, I accidentally squished one, and when I looked at my knee, my pants were covered in a scary, slimy ant face. So then -- not in my dream just in real life -- I yelled for you and Daddy and I woke up but was still scared.

And can I just tell you how happy I was to hear that his dream was not about something truly scary -- like real life scary -- but was instead about smashing a bug?

I've been fretting lately because we are to the point that we have to start talking to Porter about strangers and how to get out of the house if there is a fire and why it is not ok to say the "bad word" his friend at preschool said when they were pretending to be "bad guys and superheroes." And I just don't feel ready to give up one bit of his innocence. But even though I refuse to let him watch anything more grown-up than The Backyardigans and will willingly sit through seven straight and very long games of Chutes and Ladders with enthusiasm if it means he doesn't think to ask about video games, it seems the milestones keep coming. He keeps getting older. And I worry, thinking this moment, this tantrum, this milestone is the beginning of the end.

He had a bad dream about colorful ants. And then asked me to say a prayer with him in the morning "to ask Heavenly Father to make sure I never have a bad dream about ants again."

Do I wish he would stop calling me "dude" and was not so interested in "bad words" and telling me all the reasons why he "likes but does not love" his little sister? Of course. But -- at least until we have to talk about daily showers and deodorant -- the scary slimy ant face dream has reminded me just how much fun each milestone really is.

So grateful this one made me a mommy five years ago. And a little heartbroken that he keeps growing up.