For fifteen months, I've been his legs, carrying him from crib, to high chair, to the yard, and back again. At times, my arms and back would break, but I tried to savor the moment anyway. To love each time he looked up at me like this, begging to be lifted up.
Then, he realized he had two little legs of his own. And, with a little help, he could hold himself up. He could even take steps, first holding both of my hands, then one. And finally, just one finger.
Until evening came, and he thought, Hey, I can do this. I know I can.
So, he let go. And he did.
Emily, what a sweet post. I teared up a little bit thinking about my little ones and their first steps ....
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful week!