I gave you your last bottle tonight.
It was a milestone long overdue; after all, you're nearly two years old. For almost a year now, you've been drinking a bottle of milk only at bedtime, using big-girl cups throughout the day. I'll confess that we've hung on to that nightly ritual for this long more for me than for you. I suppose I needed a good excuse to say the words, "I'll fix the baby a bottle." We mommas don't let go of sentences like that very easily.
Lately, your bedtime routine has been noisy and silly, not quiet and baby-ish. You know the world outside my arms is much more interesting, and you'd rather investigate your brothers' room next door than quietly sit in the rocker with me. Usually I can coax you back with a rendition of Happy Talk or yet another reading of Goodnight Moon, but mostly, you're on the move.
Yet tonight, you seemed to know that Momma needed a few minutes to savor this sweet moment. You snuggled in my arms, even allowing me to hold you like a baby, as you clutched that last bottle in your chubby hands. I smiled to myself, thinking that perhaps there was a future-momma somewhere deep inside you that understood. You filled up my arms, my lap, and my heart tonight, sweet girl. Thank you.
