It amazes me how time flies and Joey has grown from a baby, to a toddler, to a young kid.
Little signs that he’s growing up such as insisting that he go out wearing outside clothes (as opposed to inside clothes), or getting mad when we play with him and let him around the house in just his undies (he shouts: but people will see me!) or refusing help by saying, I can do this all by myself. And every night, Joey and I get into a semi-argument on where he would sleep, as he now insists on sleeping in his own room (his yaya sleeps there but we have a single bed with pullout). Usually, I convince him by saying babies need to sleep with their moms, but now, the tide goes against me and I have to reverse the argument by saying, mommies need their babies to sleep beside them at night, appealing to Joey’s protective nature.
He even begs now to go to school – he has been for the past year since taking trial classes last summer, saying he’s ready now for school. I remember Joey coming home with his lunchbox contents intact if it’s a sandwich or rice and hotdog, but everything eaten if it’s a chocolate chip cookie and tetrapack juices. He justifies this saying his schoolmates don’t eat rice at school (remember, he was just three years and two months at this time, and yet he already knew what peer pressure felt like).
I know I should be proud; raising a kid is no mean feat. But sometimes, I feel tears forming in my eyes because I know a lot of things will slowly change. I keep telling him I need to hug and kiss him as often as I can now because when he grows up, he won’t let me do these things anymore. And sometimes, I just wish time could slow down a little bit so I can catch up a bit.