More than a month of autumn officially remains on the calendar, but everyone knows that it’s glory days are behind us. A few tenacious leaves hang on to skeletons of trees, avoiding the inevitable drift to join their brothers upon the lawn. The chill that so many of us long for and love is threatening to become the icy wind that takes your breath away and makes you reconsider a trip to the store or a stop at the post office. ‘It can wait,’ we’ll say as we sip our tea and pull an afghan tighter around our shoulders. Boy, do I want to hold on to this beautiful season. 

I feel the same way about my boys’ childhood years. When people warn new parents that it goes by quickly, believe them! I did believe, but I didn’t really understand. I didn’t understand the rush of emotions that accompany watching your “baby” dress himself and inform you that he wants to wear the Superman undies instead of Elmo. I had no idea that I could get sentimental at the thought that “Lellow” is the only baby word left for my elder son. (Now, I understand why my mom used to get so frustrated with me when I insisted upon correcting my little sister.) Yes, I know that I can enjoy the babyhood of our little one, and God willing, more may follow, but still… I treasure the reminders that they are still so small. On Thursday, we were having lunch with my mom, and our preschooler announced, “my teacher said that she saw my picture on your Blob, Mommy.” I thought my mom and I would burst! Last night, our younger fellow kept pointing at his pajamas saying “Weee Pooh,” translated “Winnie the Pooh.” I love it; I love it; I love it!