My baby had her Christmas program last night. She goes to the sweetest little preschool, and each year at Christmas all the littles march up to the front of the church and sing sweet little songs for their families before heading over to a Birthday Party for Jesus. It.is.adorable.
Yesterday, in the middle of a quick trip to Wal-Mart with Alli I decided to stroll over to the Toddler section and look at dresses. They didn’t have many. Boo. Then we headed over to the shoes, and we found these …
So I pulled out a pair in her size, 7. I could tell as soon as I started to wiggle them onto her chubby little feet that it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly I picked up a pair of size 8’s, and wouldn’t you know it? They slipped right on!
“I love them! Can I have them, Mommy?”
My mind was kind of reeling … size 8? Really? Could that mean? Is it possible? …
So we headed over to the Kids section … around the corner … miles away from the Baby and Toddler section.
“Mommy this dress is perfect! It matches my sparkly shoes!”
And it did.
It matched perfectly in the sparkly silver accent and in the reality it brought that my sweet little punkin is growing up. I resisted a little and gazed longingly at the “T” clothing.
I ending up buying the big girl dress and the size 8 shoes and a sweet silver headband to match.
But only after reminding her (and myself) that she will always be my baby.