I often tell my daughter to stop growing up, and I mean it. If I could freeze my children at this point in time, I think I would keep them this way forever.
Five years old and 22 months old are pretty great ages.
Clara repeatedly reminds me that it’s her job to grow up and to stop being silly.
She’s apparently a fan of reality.
But the one thing I yearn for in terms of the future is the day when I can say, “Everyone in the car!” and the kids just pile in on their own, without any straps and three-point harnesses and enormous, plastic contraptions that double as hiding places for wandering Cheerios and the occasional toy.
When we can actually leave the house without the requisite five minutes of strapping down and buckling in our children, that will be a happy day for me.
