This is why moms take pictures of sleeping children

This is why moms take pictures of sleeping children

I ordered Toy Story from the library several months ago — when Simon started wearing underpants and wondering about whose pictures were on his bum — and it finally came in this week. Since the boy was a model child throughout the morning, I let him watch it when he woke up from his nap. And, oh my goodness, you would think the boy had never laughed before and had to get it all out at once. Every line brought a round of maniacal laughter, followed by a repetition of the line, followed by more laughter — while jumping on the couch, running laps around the rug, and generally making a nuisance of himself. I loved it and it made me sad.

I’m happy, of course, that he enjoyed it so much and that he seems to have a decent sense of humor, but sad (a little) that he is actually old enough to get the jokes and gags. I’ve been seeing it coming for a while. His language is fairly understandable, he can clean his room and read and write (a little) and dress himself and use the toilet (most of the time), but the somewhat advanced sense of humor really got me. He’s still little, but he’s getting bigger, older, more mature.

I’ve been looking forward to this, to being able to sit down and enjoy a movie with him, instead of just next to him. But it’s sad to see the little boy who couldn’t say his name become a thing of the past. And I know I’m not the only one. People at church have told me that they are sad to see him grow up as well. The worst part is knowing that I’ll be going through this several times a year for the rest of my life, probably. I’ll be bemoaning the fact that my little boy is all grown up right up until I’m 97 and about to die and he’s 74 and bouncing his first great-grandchild on his knee.

7 thoughts on “This is why moms take pictures of sleeping children

  1. If Simon is anything like his first cousin once removed, the maniacal laughter and running on the couch and running laps around the room are plentiful in stock, and will not be fading another two decades plus.
    I kinda like having a 3 year old around.

  2. I love the things that little kids think are hilarious. For Samuel it’s a hit or miss – sometimes he laughs at something that’s supposed to be funny, and sometimes he’ll bust up at something really not very funny. Yesterday we were reading my old Garfield book together, and he didn’t get any of the real jokes (I was reading/explaining them to him), but when I said, “Garfield ate the whole lasagna!,” he busted up and kept repeating it! It was pretty funny.

    When you start realizing your little guy is growing up, that’s when it’s really fun to go back through old posts and remember what things were like a year or two (or three) ago. :0)

  3. Abby, are you saying that Hillary acts like a 3-year-old? I hope only in the best sense . . . . 😉

    Garfield eating the whole lasagna is pretty hilarious if you ask me. It sounds like a line Simon would bust up at, too. And it is fun to go back to old posts and to see how much Simon has changed and remember the things he used to do. Good times.

  4. While it’s sad to see one stage pass (which I do miss sometimes), I try to see each new stage as a surprise present that opens a little at a time. There’s always something new and exciting. I think it’s fun to see how what they do when they’re a little older was actually foreshadowed by what they did at a younger age.

    Our kids are so cool. I forget that sometimes, though.

  5. Thanks for that Conan. It reminds me of something I actually wrote several months ago about focusing on motherhood at this point in my life (instead of writing) exactly because I don’t want to miss anything as these “presents” open up.

    I do admit that I’m a little bit afraid that Simon is passed all of the “cute” stages and there will only be annoying stages to go through for several years. :) I’m hoping for lots of surprises as far as that goes.

  6. Oh they just keep getting better and better. Neils is 8 and I still have to stop myself from referring to him as “adorable” in his presence. They just are. They are learning to grasp ever larger concepts in their limited way, and the results are often hilarious. And sweet. And insightful. It’s wonderful. But seeing them asleep is still just heart-stoppingly sweet.

  7. I’m glad to hear they do keep getting better. I suppose I do have a tendency to prepare for the worst and then be pleasantly surprised when they turn out so much better.

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