Graduation

I had a moment this week. Wyatt and I attended Dax's pre-school graduation on Monday. He still has one more year before he heads off to kindergarten (dang those December birthday's). But, I have to admit something, I don't really curse his late birthday as much as I lead on. In fact, I don't hate it all.

You see, I have no problem that Dax is home with me for one more year. I have no problem that I get to listen to his silly, imaginative stories for one more year and have him quiz me on words that rhyme and counting backwards for one more year. I have no problem watching him grow 3 inches and gain 7 pounds in 10 months (thank you Mrs. Vanderpool for documenting that!) for one more year. I have no problem not having to rush him out the door for school in the mornings or not worrying about getting him to bed on time for one more year. I love it when he stays up late with me. I have no problem having one on one time when Wyatt takes his nap and Dax and I get to lounge around and talk...usually about dinosaurs, for one more year. I have no problem having his helping hands around for one more year. I have no problem letting the boys relationship flourish for one more year, because they are entering the cutest, nicest, let's-play-together phase and (cross your fingers) exiting the I'm-going-to-make-your-life-miserable phase. Thank goodness!

And I absolutely have no problem feeling like a mother hen for one more year protecting her little chick. Let's face it, my eyes maybe, slightly, possibly, welled up with tears as Dax received his pre-school diploma from his teacher and looked out at me and smiled so proudly. I smiled and waved back through the tears and I couldn't help but picture him 14 years from now, finishing high school and excited to start his life, on his own, without me. And my heart ached.

Time. Please stand still.

Brothers are more fun than....

Last week we had a motto. I stole the line from one of our favorite book series, "An Elephant and Piggie Book" and changed the word "friend" to "brother". Whenever there was a dispute, this was the motto. Brothers are more fun than who gets to play with the walking, talking dinosaur. Brothers are more fun than who gets the Diego cup. Brothers are more fun than going potty first (yes they fight about that). Brothers are more fun than arguing over Yo Gabba Gabba or The Upside Down Show. Brothers are more fun than crying over who's bag of fruit snacks I open first. Brothers are more fun than winning the race to the mailbox. You get the idea. We used it multiple times a day.

As is turns out, brothers are more fun than just about anything. And being their mom is too.

Pictures courtesy of my amazing friend Brittney. She's so talented! Check out her site brittneygurrphotography.blogspot.com