It’s not his birthday. There weren’t any major accomplishments to warrant the glowing candles. It was a simple request. “Mommy, can I have candles in my pancake so I can sing and blow them out?” He looked at me with such hope in his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice his disheveled hair and Peter Pan jammies.
I’m more aware than ever of how quickly my first born child is growing up. His mannerisms, his attitude, his actions in general. It’s difficult to watch, but impossible to look away. I find myself watching him from across the room with mixed emotions. I love the person he is becoming with each day we are blessed with, but I worry all the time about the inevitable things I won’t be able to shelter him from, control, or fix. It goes too fast. That’s all there is to it, therefore, I will hold on to each moment with a strong grasp. I will collect those moments, breathe them in, and tuck them away for another day – rainy or sunny, it doesn’t matter. I will pull those moments out as often as I dare, they are a part of me, they have embedded themselves in my heart.
So, this morning when he asked for candles in his pancakes, really I had no choice. There would be candles, there would be his traditional song Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star and then with all the breath his four year old lungs could muster, he’d extinguish the glow that hovered over his breakfast.
And with that, I learned another lesson from my four-year-old.
Celebrate each day.