I know that I have said this repeatedly in the last several months, but I had yet another epiphany that I am old and only getting older. In FOUR WEEKS my son starts kindergarten. Seriously? How did that happen? Yesterday he was still attached to his binky. The day before that he was still in diapers. Then I turned around to say, "Put that down/stop that/come here/be still" and he was 5 1/2 years old, holding a PSP and telling me that he was most definitely NOT going to bed until he finishes one more level. And that? Is final.
I am glad he is growing up to be so smart and funny and confident. I am also stressed because he is growing up to be head-strong and ornery and complicated. I am proud of him and I can already see the lady-killer he is going to be in a few years. Well, that is if he learns to put down the PSP from time to time and stops running around pretending to be characters from Star Wars. I think we have a 50/50 shot at this point.
On another topic...ok, maybe the-same-but-slightly-different-topic, I got bitten by the baby bug. Either that or I am suffering from the worst case of weepy, irrational PMS EVER. Seriously? Me? Weepy? In case you didn't get the memo -- I don't DO weepy. I just keep getting something in my eye every single time I see a little girl.
Cute little girls in little dresses with their little pigtails. It breaks my heart to see them. And? They. Are. Everywhere. Oh, and every one is pregnant. I walk out of the house and it is like some Willie Wonka version of Night of the Living Dead. Pregnant ladies. Little girls. Pregnant ladies with little girls. And they are all after me.