One day, they’re your tiny baby and they promise to hold your hand and be your baby forever, but they lie to your face, they don’t even know it and neither do you— but they’ll fly away.
Moms with small children, I know you’re so tired, but please let them wear goggles to church with their cape for 4 Sunday’s in a row.
Don’t fuss when they want to come in your bed and you wake up with legos under your pillow and a foot on your face.
Teach them to say, “I love you,” reflexively when they walk out the door anytime. (Layne says it to me in front of his friends now without a flinch)
Stand by their door and listen to them vrooming and making stories: there is literally nothing more important than this.
You will send them off to high school and cry in your corner chair and pray that you lead them right.
Nato cried last night before bed and closed his eyes, pretending Pruett was Layne at that age.
He smelled his hair and squeezed him: “It has all just gone so fast”. We are a tender, sentimental team these days, people.
So Layne: May the Lord bless you and keep you, May he make your new Jordan’s not crinkle too hard today, May He put you in a good home room with a teacher who thinks you’re funny, not mouthy. May your lunch be more nutritious than the Ramen you’ve been downing. May you find a teacher who understands you’re a creative, not an academic( but not let you off the hook to try!). May your sling not smell so bad you can’t make new friends. Hear thy humble prayers of a mother, O’Lord.