Bye-Bye, Baby Boy

This boy.

"I meed-a go peeeeeee!" he suddenly cries out, running down the hallway. He insists on turning on the bathroom light all by himself. He doesn't want the little potty; he doesn't want the potty-seat. He definitely doesn't want help. He wants to climb up the porcelain throne, teeter precariously over the bowl of water (maybe even stepping in it by accident, which he thinks is hilarious), and then straddle that huge basin with legs splayed and face glowing with self-satisfaction. 

So, potty training has been a success. What remains to be determined is whether I will successfully be able to keep it together as I think about how not-my-baby-anymore he suddenly is...probably not happening... because I'm pregnant. Everything makes me tear up.

And it's a good thing I am...pregnant, that is...because I tried to drag out his baby-hood as long as I could manage. I'm relieved that I have another little squishy squirt coming soon. It makes all this growing-up-ness a little more okay by me.

Also, I think I understand a little better why all my boyfriends' and guy friends' moms were so protective of them. The Love of a Mother is fierce and strong for everyone of her babies, but I have decided that there are these small parts of The Love that differ a little between sons and daughters. With boys, it's like you're determined to make them your perfect little man; they just capture your heart the way only your own, personalized mini-prince-charming ever can. With girls, I think it's got an element of the girl-kinship, the sisterhood, the in-this-craziness-together thing. I get major anxiety when I even start thinking about the time when he will like girls that aren't his mama, and want to date them. 

OoooH, man. Good thing I have a long time to get used to that idea.