Growing Up

Parenthood makes your heart bloom 1,000 sizes larger, which is a good thing because your kids will learn to talk and quickly set pace to break your heart into a million pieces. The sweet words, spun in sugar and designed to warm you from the core. The mean words, full of spite (and sometimes without any meaning behind them since the kid doesn't get what they are saying, like the time Luca told me I looked like Santa) that burn the backs of your eyes. The funny words that make your heart burst into confetti, threatening to tear your ribcage open as it overflows with love and pride. And, the bittersweet kind that cause you to force a smile to pass that lump in your throat because they are both sweet and sad all at once.

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"Mama, can you tell Rohan to stop whining?" she asks from the backseat, the back of her head pressed to her car seat's armrest as she gives an annoyed, sideways glare to her whining brother.

"Oh sweetie, I can tell him, but he's a baby. He doesn't understand. Sometimes, babies just whine because they can't talk like big kids can." I answer as I meet her eyes in my car's review mirror.

"Ro-o-ohan! Stop!" she hollers at him.

"Yeah Rohan," I mock-reprimand, "stop being such a baby!"

(giggles from the baby's big sister)

"I don't whine, Mama. Cuz I'm not a baby. I'm a big girl!"

"No WAY! You're MY baby!"

"NO, I'm gonna get bigger mama."

"Nope. Not allowed," I tease, "you have to stay itty and bitty and pocket-sized forever and ever. No getting big allowed!"

"Oh. I'm sorry Mama, but I have to get big." she replies, eyebrows tipped in at the temples, a look of sympathy and compassion in her big, sweet eyes.

:::crush:::