I've had a hard couple of days.
I've started to realize that at times I am too hard on my sweet boy. That I expect WAY too much. That I forget that he is not 14, or 10, or 6, or even 4...yet. He's still 3. I put pressure on him to perform past what his little body can. He's so big, and I forget that he's not in 2nd Grade, he's not even in a true Pre-K class yet. He still sleeps with a blankie and his Tigger. He works harder than any other kid I know every day just to be able to PLAY AND LISTEN in his class. So why do I at times expect him to be so grown up?
He's bigger than most kids his age. He's the youngest in his class. He's articulate. He's extremely intelligent. I forget that he's just 3. He wears the same size clothes that most Kindergarteners wear. But he's just 3.
Tonight I laid on the floor next to him as his Dad read his story. He was wearing PJs with a brown bear that said "Bearly Sleepy". I held him tight, and just as I was praying that I find some grace and peace within myself, he squeezed my hand 3 times, which is our secret code that we use for "I LOVE YOU".
He's just 3. He's still my baby.