In the crucible of daily parenting it's not always easy to notice your kids growing up before your eyes. We get so caught up in the little things ("Do Lincoln's glands look swollen?" "How did Greta get that scratch on her cheek?") that moments of maturity sometimes pass us by.
Not this morning.
7:45, Greta is still bleary-eyed as she makes her way to the bathroom. Pulls down her pajamas and sits on the toilet. Waits about 5 seconds and then mid-stream looks up, straight into my eyes, and says, "You look nice."
I'm wearing dark jeans and a navy blue cotton pullover with a zippered collar.
"Thank you, big kid," I say.
(We're off to Carey's college reunion in Ithaca this weekend, so no posts until Sunday night or Monday.)
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