The Things of Childhood...

We gather them before we have a baby. The things of childhood. The crib. The stroller. The onesies with the matching socks.

We wonder how we went through them so fast. These things of childhood. How did they outgrow that snowsuit so quickly? And the shoes. Those adorable, sweet baby shoes. Impractical as they may be.

There are other things of childhood, of course. A baby's cry. A sleepless night. Followed by one hundred more sleepless nights that cause us to wonder how time could pass so slowly.

Followed by years of wondering how time could pass so quickly.

Baby shampoo and belly buttons. Pacifiers and baby rattles. Diapers and diapers and more diapers. Some things of childhood are easier to let go of than others.

A baby book that we somehow haven't had time to put anything in.

Breast pumps and bottles eventually give way to sippy cups that somehow grow legs and walk themselves to the strangest places when no one is looking. Under the couch cushions. Behind the TV. Inside the entertainment center. Where they are found weeks later, and it is discovered that legs aren't the only things they have grown.

And in these same places, we find other things of childhood. Blocks and books. Trains and toy tractors. A stiletto Barbie shoe. At least now I can stop worrying that it was permanently lodged up someone's nose.

Diaper cream and toothpaste. We try to remember which one goes where, but sleep deprivation can do strange things, and well, if it's good for one end, it's probably good for the other end, too. We will try, however, to identify which one has been used to paint the bathroom walls.

Outgrown clothes and outgrown toys. OK, so maybe we sometimes hold onto them a little longer than we should. Who knows? She may want to play with that baby doll again someday. And that dress was just so cute on her.

Books read by me give way to books read by them. And then books they write in as they tell me not to look.

Drawings of stick figures without bodies. A name that's mostly spelled backwards. A Valentine that says I Love You Momy.

These are the things of childhood.

First hair cuts. First bike rides. First days of school.

Puddles of syrup on the kitchen floor. Peanut butter hand prints on the walls.

A half eaten hot dog under the covers. Sometimes it's best not to ask.

A skinned knee. A bruised ego.

A broken heart. A broken treasure. A broken rule.

Tears and Laughter. Sometimes theirs. Just as often mine.

Quite often both at the very same time.

A smile. A hug. A thank you.

These are the things of childhood, though not the only things, of course.

There is frustration, and exhaustion, and self doubt. Happiness and pride. Excitement and amazement.

And sadness, too.

Someday, though, these things will give way to other things.

A diploma.

A wave.

A last look back over a shoulder.

A book that holds a baby bootie. And a small red curl. And a Valentine that says I Love You Momy.

Now that we finally have time to put things in it.

These are the things of childhood.

And I will take them all.