There’s something to be said about your youngest.
You know he’s your last.
Your last diaper change.
Your last bottle.
Your last rock-to-sleep.
He’s your last one to learn to use his “r’s” correctly {{excuse me while I sob}}.
The last one to ask for snuggles just because.
The last to wake up happy and bubbly at 6am ready to start his day… instead of throwing a pillow over his head and yelling at you to get out.
My baby is 4 1/2.
He’s still not QUITE transitioned to little boy yet.
He still has a bit of a baby voice and likes to be carried… although he’s getting too big.
He still needs help pouring his cereal and screams “wipe my butt!!” from across the house.
But it’s not far off.
I know it.
I can feel it.
I have maybe 6 more months.
He’s becoming his own person.
The thought of all of my children being so self-sufficient and in the next phase of life is exciting.
It’s also terrifying.
I don’t want more babies. I know we’re done.
But wow… there’s something to be said about the youngest.
So if you see me in the Target checkout aisle and I allow him to throw an Avengers juice box and 6 unnecessary candy bars onto the belt, just smile and move on.
He’s my baby.
He has manners and knows how to be polite.
He’s too smart for his own good.
But no matter what, no matter when, no matter where, no matter how… whether he grows up or not…he will always be my baby.
So I’ll spoil him for just a little bit longer.
There’s something to be said about your youngest.
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This post originally appeared at Momming All the Boys, published with permission.
