Small Enough

I became a mom in an unusual way. My first child was newly 12 when he came home. He was sweet and precious and quirky and more. He still can be, at 16, but he’s also becoming a young man, which happened sooner than I realized it would. I had the privilege of bringing my younger four kids home from the hospital as newborns. They’re now 4, 3, 2, and 10 months. This post is mostly about them, but I imagine that my big boy shared many of these same attributes.

One of the most remarkable things about babies and small children is how quickly they change. They grow so very quickly. I’m constantly having to adjust their wardrobe to keep up with their bodies. Baby-proofing gives way to toddler-proofing once they move from crawling to walking and climbing. Yesterday, the baby couldn’t climb the stairs. Well, now she can – in a flash! 

Rather than rushing forward into the future when my littles are “big enough” for more things and need less of me, I want to squeeze every drop of sweetness out of who they are right now. I want to have strong and plentiful memories of these early days to carry with me into the future. Today I took note of some of the things they’re blessedly “small enough” for.

Small enough to find joy in simple things. Ice cubes, a balloon, and a patch of dirt to dig. A ten-page storybook, the 90-second Baby Shark song, an airplane passing overhead. Seeing a train, or even just its track. Playgrounds, and puddles. Bath time, and watching Daddy mow the lawn. Being the one to put the soap pod in the washer, or hit the button to close the door of the van. Bubbles, baubles, and blankets. Drinking with a straw, a mini lollipop, and running through sprinklers. Silly rhymes like “tickle pickle” and “girl squirrel”. They’re joy-seekers, and they find it everywhere. Thankfully, they share it with me.

Small enough to live in the moment. Here and now are paramount. Concepts of past and future are too abstract to grasp, resulting in an intensified experience of the present. Unencumbered by regret or the uncertainty of the days ahead, they dwell wholly in the immediate. Emotions run high at all times, unchecked by the reality that informs the rest of us that not every circumstance warrants big feelings.

Small enough for naivete. No concern about danger, money, politics, performance, relationships, or impossibilities. Kisses magically take the sting out of everyday bumps and scrapes. Imagination paints a colorful world of play that absorbs them for long stretches. Favorite characters seem like true friends. Belief comes easily; meanwhile I strive for “faith like a child”, but am never quite able to return to it. 

Small enough for freedom of self. Dressing (or not) depending on their own flair, dancing as their spirit leads and sometimes to music no one else can hear, discovering their own tastes for straight ketchup or sour pickles, and exploring their interests with all of their energy. They are unapologetically who they are, though they are constantly changing.

Small enough to enjoy the closeness and comfort of parents. Being carried, cuddled, rocked, and held are hourly occurrences. Mommy and Daddy are still strong enough to lift them and they ask for it frequently. One makes nightly visits to our bed and is sometimes so stealthy he goes unnoticed until morning. They never miss a hug and kiss from Daddy before he leaves for work. 

Small enough for tight spaces. Crawling under the kitchen table, sharing the bathtub, doubling up in Mommy’s lap to hear a story, taking a ride in a mini wagon. Hunkering down in a blanket fort, sitting in the box of blocks, slithering under a bed for hide-n-seek. Household furniture is comically disproportionate to their small frames, so they find compact alternatives.

As I marvel at my little bitties, I am invited to join them in their joy, passion, freedom, and security. They are small enough to see the world with fresh eyes, and I can glimpse it too.