Sometimes I see my kids trying to act all grown-up, using big words and utensils, going to the bathroom on their own and dressing themselves, riding bikes and picking out snacks.  And I think about how big they seem to be.

Sometimes, they call for me before 6am, or they holler for me for the fifth time after I've put them to bed, or they want to be in the bathroom with me every single time.  And I find myself selfishly getting frustrated at my lack of space and time.  

But then I remember, and I remind myself that they are only little once.  These days at home, that often feel so long, will not last forever.  And one day they will be gone, my kids off and away, grown and on their own.  And I will miss these days.  I will long for the days when I had them close, when I could fix their up-turned world with a simple hug and kiss.  I will wish I had these moments back, the ones where teaching them to bake biscuits or folding laundry together, even though it took three times as long, was the best part of our days.

Some moments I catch myself trying to wish time to move faster, so bedtime can come sooner or I can drink a cup of coffee by myself, but really, I am glad they are little.  I am thankful for these tender, teachable years.  And for all they end up teaching me: patience, grace, selfishness.

For now, I will do my best to remember to let them be little.  To soak up every little moment.  Because they are only little once.