A friend hosted a play date today for a couple of us gals and our unruly children. Four boys, from 16 months to 4 years... Note to self: have a girl next time. You should have seen those kids vying for this one toy hammer. It was like throwing a bag of Wonder Bread into a duck pond. But with whining.
Samson was the youngest of the group, so it was one of those opportunities for me to see my future with him in tidy little stages. Observe:
Little Friend #1 is about six months older than Samson. He was doing amazing things like putting the correct shapes in the shape sorter.
Little friend #2 is ten months older than Samson. He's learning about sharing, asks for help, and has interesting ways of greeting other toddlers. Like chest bumps.
Little friend #3 is about three years older than Samson, and I've always been weirded out by him him simply because he does things that Samson will surely never do, like speak in complete sentences and build entire systems of wooden railroad tracks. Hanging out with kids his age reminds me that I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT KIDS and HOW THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO RAISE ONE.
Every time I stop to catch my breath, I look back and see that 3, 6, 15 months have passed and the baby is still intact. Sometimes, he's even smiling. And usually he's doing something new and amazing that I never thought I'd see, like GIVING BEAR HUGS and GOING DOWN THE SLIDE BY HIMSELF.
I am in a perpetual state of shock.