I may have caught his last jump on camera.
For years, he’s loved this jump house and all others he’s encountered. He jumped, happily, every time we got this one out of the garage or found one at a fair or arcade.
But today, he jumped for about two minutes with his sister before he came out and told me, quite matter of factly, that he just doesn’t like it anymore and that he’s too big.
His little sister, now two, called for him to come in and jump with her, but he told her that he’s just too old to jump. No one told him that; he just decided on his own.
It’s a small thing, really, and one of many things that signify that my son, once a boy I could easily carry, is growing older. He’s too heavy for me to lift now; he’s getting his adult teeth; his hair is getting darker; his hands are taking the shape of a boy, no longer a baby.
This last jump is just another last that will make way to more firsts; that I know. I guess it’s only fitting that my boy who parasailed last week for the first time decides this week, that he’s too old for the bounce house.
It’s like that, isn’t it, this parenting thing? As we witness the lasts, right around the corner, there are more firsts. And while I’m so happy to see my son jumping in new ways, I’d be lying if I told you all I wasn’t just a bit sad when he told me he’s just too big for the jump house.
Before too long, he’ll be too big for so many things…. But he will never outgrow the love of this mother. My love will follow him for every jump he takes–this one and all that follow.
Thanks for Mothering the Divide with me, as it shifts and changes for all of us and we grow together with our children.