Big Boy Beds and the Big Bad Wolf

At this moment, my two-and-a-half year old son, Noah, is visiting the Land of Nod as he dreams away his nap time in his "big boy bed." The crib has been disassembled, stored in a cold corner of the garage and replaced by a seemingly enormous, solid wood set of bunk beds.

As many parents do, I am dragging my feet as I watch my two angels grow so fast. There is a cohabitating excitement and reluctance in my mind and in my heart as I witness my sons graduate from toddlerhood into boyhood, knowing that eventually it will be into manhood.

And so I irrationally, immaturely and irrefutably resist this inevitability and shy away from 

the Big Bad Wolf that is time.

"Time" is a word that sounds exactly like what it means. It is short, abrupt and a little harsh as it begins and ends with a consonant sound. 

Likewise, the passing of time can seem unrelenting and a little grim--something we feel we need to protect ourselves from. Summer abundance fades into the winds of a colder autumn and we try to comfort ourselves with warm, savory food and bulky sweaters. Wrinkles form and we smooth on Oil of Olay. Children grow and we frantically take photographs, trying to capture it before it slips away.

It is the constant paradox of parenthood: the thrill of observing young tots sprout up and the fear of the day when it will all be over. It seems odd and ironic that something that is natural can be difficult.

Yet, I plan to savor it as best as I can. To seek out the joy in it. What else can you do?

Charlotte the spider may have said it best in Charlotte's Web, one of the most insightful stories about childhood, growing up, and how all good things end while life remains unsypathetic, bounding forward.

Mother Earth and Father Time

How very special are we

For just a moment to be

Part of life's eternal rhyme

How very special are we

To have on our family tree

Mother Earth and Father Time

He turns the seasons around

And so she changes her gown

But they always look in their prime

They go on dancing their dance

Of everlasting romance

Mother Earth and Father Time

The summer larks return to sing
Oh, what a gift they give
Then autumn days grow short and cold
Oh, what a joy to live

How very special are we
For just a moment to be
Part of life's eternal rhyme
How very special are we
To have on our family tree
Mother Earth and Father Time