My youngest son, who just turned 3, has been a little clingy lately, waking up with night terrors, begging to sleep with us. He follows me around the house like he doesn’t want to let me out of his sight, like he’s afraid to be alone. Something has frightened him—it’s unclear what; he does not have the language to explain this fear. Not many young children do.
His clinging sometimes feels a bit suffocating.
For Christmas this year, he got some cute dinosaur slippers. He wears them everywhere—around the house, on the walk to school, to the store. People comment on how adorable they are—and they’re right.
The other day, he crashed into my room, where I was working. I said a quick hello and then I went back to work, fully engaged in writing whatever story I had open in front of me. And a few minutes later, I looked up to see him typing away at my grandmother’s old Remington.
In his dinosaur slippers.
I watched, blinking away tears I couldn’t explain. He’s growing up, he’ll soon get over his clinginess, he will not fit into these dinosaur slippers forever.
I made a note to myself: Don’t miss the moments.
(Photo by This is Now Photography.)
