As your floppy blonde hair falls across your face, lashes so thick and dark to make any women envious, that fringe your sleepy eyes. The way you clasp ‘Teddy’, that now slightly off white bear you loved immensely since you first set eyes on it, tightly under your chin. Those first set of tiny toes I have ever loved. I find myself mid day dream, having a ‘pinch me moment’.

I have a 4 year old.

There is no denying you’ve existed little in our lives but without a doubt have you shaped me to be the best version of myself and these 4 years have been the best years any Mummy could ask for. I will cherish these next few years to come being called ‘Mummy’, how have we moved on from ‘Mama’ so suddenly. Something us parents take for granted because with a sudden blink of an eye I’ll be just ‘Mum’, I guess in a way this is just another bitter sweet reminder of how fast our babies grow.

This year embarks you on an individual journey of independence. And I’d be well and truly fooling myself if I said I was ready to let parts of you go. In just 7 months you’ll be attending school, I am not even ready for the realisation to hit me hard of having a school boy. My eyes prickle by the thought of allowing you to grow up and find your way in the big wide world, although I’m sure you’ll take it in your stride and continue to make me beam with pride.

It’s almost suddenly you’ve developed into a little boy, the way you’ve become obsessed with anything transportation, from cars to trains, lorries to diggers. They completely captivate you, playing for hours. It’s beautiful to watch you grow becoming infatuated with different things. I love how you remind me of myself, out in the open is where you feel most comfortable, the way you shine inside and out whilst horse riding or simply inquisitive whilst on our family walks. The questions are endless and you absorb every detail, deliriously excited about how the world works and the need to know more.

I am intensely proud of the young boy you’re growing up to be such a caring, polite, inquisitive yet sensitive little boy and I couldn’t be prouder to call you mine.

Published by Mothering Silence

A late twenty-something mother of two boys and a profoundly deaf diva of almighty sass. In between splitting spontaneous sibling wars, curiatimg pillow forts and channeling inner superheroes. Mothering Silence documents a brutally honest truth of the trials and tribulations of motherhood. (The toughest hood.) Here you'll find the weekly ramblings of the rollercoaster life of my journey in motherhood. *Please note my style of writing is tongue in cheek.

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