Don't Grow Up So Soon

My baby turns 20 months old in two days. And as I say that out loud, whoever hears it, responds with, "Oh, almost two". That stops me in my tracks and I find myself examining my once little baby, who is growing up too soon. For 20 months straight, he couldn't sleep at night, without stuffing his face against mine. But, for the past two nights he has become an overconfident Keanu Reeves, pulling Matrix-like moves in his sleep. I find an arm or a leg on my face. If I try to cuddle him, he violently shoves me away and goes back to his corner.  

I reminisced about the time, when he would sleep under a mosquito net triple his size and a clean cotton sheet exclusively meant for him. He would lie there, still as a snail, with very gentle body movements, staring at the strange new world around him, with unfocused, gawky eyes. Overnight, he has developed a distinct personality. He says "no" at the drop of a hat and a more emphatic "no", with the waving of the hands. 

I know you'll soon bring home a girl whom you want to marry, go to college, get a job and have an independent life away from us, your parents. But for now, please slow down. Don't grow up so soon. Please be our little baby, who babbles all day and gets excited, at the prospect of going on drives and strolls in the pram. 

As you tumbled between us today, rubbing your pee filled diaper on our faces and head butting us occassionally, your father and I unanimously agreed that having you was the best decision of our lives. The violent games that lead to bloodshed (only for us of course, you seem absolutely fine!), the extreme hyper activeness, the sleep and food rebellion, can be extremely painful to handle, especially on days when we are tired. But overall, you have us neatly wrapped around your smelly little pinkie. In other words, you get away with cold blooded murder, all day, everyday simply because we are suckers for your baby gurgles and incomprehensible babble. 

I can't believe you are almost two. It feels like we brought you home from the hospital, just yesterday. We want to smell the top of your oily little head just a little longer. We want to squish you senselessly, just a little longer. We want to be the centre of your universe, just a little longer. Please slow down. Don't grow up so soon.