His eyes are the same, but he’s not. I see my baby becoming a boy. It’s happening right in front of me and I’m not ready.
I’m not ready for him to stop saying the word ‘booga’ when he means ‘frog.’ I’m not ready for him to call his baby brother Latham instead of ‘Bob-O’; a name he christened our newborn the very day he met him. I’m not ready for him to call me mommy instead of momma. I’m not ready.
I’m not ready to stop holding his hand when we climb stairs. I’m not ready for him to give up his little lamb that he snuggles every night when he goes to sleep. I’m not ready for him to stop crying when I leave a room. I’m not ready.
I may not be ready, but he is. And I’m not ready for that either.
I’m not ready for the clock to keep ticking. I’m not ready for him to go to kindergarten. I’m not ready for him to drive. I’m not ready for him to get a job. I’m not ready for him to get married.
I’m not ready! I’m not ready! I’m not ready!
Ready or not, here he comes.
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