You realize how much your children can mature in one year, when at the first night of basketball practice your son is no longer scared to catch the ball, and your daughter (the spectator) is no longer diving off the bleachers without fear of injury.
You spy your little girl "feeding" your baby girl with her toy dishes and all you can do is smile.
You're not scared of thunderstorms, but your daughter is...so whenever you hear a crack of thunder during the workday, you worry sick about her until the storm blows over.
You sometimes think of your kids as real, live Barbie dolls that you get to dress up and accessorize.
Unfortunately, your daughter thinks that too, and her sense of matching is not quite on target yet. Or maybe she's just channeling the 80's.
You have that 'oh crap' moment when you realize your son's foot is almost as big as yours. And he's six.
You never realized how strong a three year old girl could be until you tried prying her off your leg at morning dropoff time.
There's that one, solitary morning where your kids get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, and get in the car all ready to go without any prompting/nagging/yelling that rejuvinates you for another couple of months. It hardly even matters that it was totally just a dream.
Being late has become your modus operandi.
It never fails. All children in your house will have to poop at the same time...inevitably in the middle of dinner. (Sorry. It's uncanny, but true.)
fake polite barber
1 day ago