Tuesday, January 28th, 2014
3 years, 2 months.
I don’t regularly share pictures of you on Facebook, unattached from daily stories I write about you.
But over the weekend, I did. I just shared three pictures of you on Mommy’s Facebook wall, as she is rarely on Facebook anyway:
In one, you’re smiling with Mommy as you “make soup” with water and spices.
In another, you’re proudly displaying your hilarious monster truck collection.
And in the third one, you’re using a pizza crust as a mustache.
Sharing those pictures with Mommy was my way of helping her stay connected with Facebook friends; giving her new material to talk about without her actually having to start the conversation.
As the comments began rolling in, I started seeing a common factor: People were genuinely amazed at how much older you look.
I haven’t noticed it as much because I see you everyday. I’m more aware of changes in your intellectual maturity instead.
So I guess I should take this down as a moment in your life where you magically looked a bit older, all of the sudden.
Your friend Henry’s dad put it this way: “When did Jack turn 7?”
It’s like watching the minute hand of a clock. If you stare at it constantly, you probably won’t really notice it move. But if you turn away for 20 minutes, then return back to it, you see an obvious difference.
As your parent, I see you every day. Since you’ve been alive, there have probably only been 3 or 4 nights where I was out of town and didn’t see you at all for the day.
Something I have noticed here recently is that your hair is obviously more brown now, like your parents’ hair color, than it is blonde.
And I’ve noticed how your nose and lips look just like Mommy’s now, while your chin and brow look a lot like mine.
It’s easy to get distracted in actually raising you everyday that I tend not to see so obviously what everybody else does- those subtle changes are hidden, though they’re right in front of me.
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