we'll always love you so

At Montessori there was a tradition that when a child left for kindergarten all of the children would sit in a circle and sing this song as the future kindergartner walked around the circle giving hugs:

goodbye (child's name),
goodbye _________,
goodbye _________,
we're sad to see you go.

goodbye _______,
goodbye _______,
goodbye _______,
we'll always love you so.

Tonight at dinner I sang this song as we bid farewell to William's highchair. Not to William, but to his highchair. I know it seems really silly; I mean, goodbye highchair?

A few months ago at Gabe's birthday party a friend of mine and Sara's gave us each a copy of a childrens book called Let me Hold you Longer by Karen Kingsbury. She, a mother herself, warned us that it's a tearjerker, but a worthwhile read for every mom. I opened the book on our way home from Rockford that day and by the third paragraph of the intro I was in tears, as Val had predicted. The book is a beautiful story about a mother watching her little boy grow up from a baby into adulthood. Rather than focusing on all of his "firsts" she is realizing his "lasts". Last bottle, last midday nap, last colored picture made, last cuddle and tuck in at night, last piano lesson, and on and on until the last hug and hurried kiss before college. In her intro she writes:

And that's when it hit me. We spend our children's days celebrating their firsts. First step, first tooth, first words. First day of kindergarten, first homecoming dance, first time behind the wheel. But somehow, along the way, we miss their lasts.
{to read the complete introduction, along with more about the book, see Sara's well written blog post} **tissues in hand**

Her words are so true for me. I find myself excitedly looking forward to the future with the boys and cheering them along as they conquer new feats and daring accomplishments. And aren't we as parents supposed to be thrilled when our baby sleeps through the night? Or transitions from bottle to cup like such a big boy? I suppose so, but in doing so we are closing a chapter of their infancy. When my boys slept through the night for the first time, the night before that was my last time waking up with them, alone in the middle of the night and sharing those precious moments of closeness while I rocked and fed them. As much as I greet meeting milestones with excitement, there's always a last that comes before that monumental first. And so, the book has been a huge reminder to me to hang on just a little bit longer to each moment. Most of them we're really never aware of until they pass. I've realized so many lasts have occurred already in my boys' lives and I've been so busy looking forward that I didn't remember to hang on just a little bit longer.

Today at lunch I decided I was ready to be done cleaning William's highchair and all of its nooks and crannies. He's big enough to sit in a booster seat so I announced to Patrick that William had his last meal in his highchair and would be joining us like a big boy at dinner. Then it struck me. His last time in his highchair. A chapter closed in his babyhood. He is becoming a big boy and joining us at the table. I quickly recanted and decided dinner would be his last meal in his highchair. I needed to make this last a bigger deal. Pictures, I decided; his last highchair meal deserved pictures.

So tonight at dinner I sang the song. William even joined in and waved while I was singing. Totally corny, I really know. But he's already becoming such a big boy. And I know it goes so fast.