Today we moved Wylie into his own room. It feels so momentous and emotional in a way I wasn't expecting. Like his first day of nursery school four years ago when I was unsure of how he would do-- just fine, but I unexpectedly teared up when it was time to say good bye.
From the kitchen downstairs this afternoon we could hear the radio screaming some song. This is not uncommon, but knowing that it was coming from Wylie's radio, in his own room was different, and so cliche for big kid behavior that we had to roll our eyes. "Here we go", Rob said lightly.
But really our hearts were catching in our throats because he isn't a baby anymore at all.
Wylie has always been fiercely independent, but every day now I notice he's breaking away a little bit more: his first night in a tent all alone*, his first big kid sneakers (they look just like adult running shoes) "they're size 2" he says proudly; riding his bike on his own down the road a bit, and now this.
He has been asking for his own room for years, has in-fact always been drawn to find his own best secret place, like the title of one of our favorite books by Byrd Baylor. Now he finally has a space all to himself.
I wonder (read: hope with all my might) if this will slow his quest for independence and his intense desire to grow up right now. Or, if it will be a spring board for development. He is on the cusp of so many new things, and I'm really seeing that even more than seven, 8 is a time of change. Not as tumultuous (thank god) but just as extreme.
* the tent was only three feet from the back door, and he only made it until midnight--but still!
Tonight Juniper didn't want to go to bed in her room all alone. Someday soon Kale will be joining her (another hard day for this mama) but for now she too is alone.
"I feel scared, and sad", she said. And even though I tried my best to reassure her, a part of me was like, yeah, me too. Scared, sad and excited too, and trying in vain to snatch at these days while my littles are still little.