Time According to a Three-Year-Old

Three-year-old Tucker's most pressing question these days has been, "And what we do after that?" 

"What we do after my nap, Mama?"

"Maisy will come home."

"What we do after that?"

"Play."

"What we do after we play?"

"Eat supper."

"What we do after supper?"

"It's bath night."

"What we do after that?"

"Go nigh-night."

"What we do after we wake up?"

And so the chain continues, for as long as I manage to keep it up. It's usually a pretty mundane list involving meals, potty breaks, naps, and playtime, occasionally peppered with slightly more interesting events like going to church, or Grandma and Grandpa's house, or ice skating lessons. 

Tucker doesn't seem to mind the ordinary nature of the list. He might cheer about going to Grandma's, or groan about bath night if he isn't in the mood. In general, though, he's just curious about the passage of time: What comes next? When will we be home? When will I start preschool?

Today in the car, we had a slightly different version of the "what next?" conversation.

"When will I be in high school, Mama?"

"In about eleven years."

"Whoa! After my go to preschool, my going to kindergarten, and then my be in high school!"

"Not quite, buddy."

And so came the list:

"After preschool, you'll be in kindergarten. First you'll be in elementary school, then middle school, then high school, and then comes college. And after that, you'll be a grown-up like Mommy and Daddy." (Let's be real, people. We weren't "grown-ups" in college.)

His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a little O. 

"Wow! That will be in 10 minutes!!"

I laughed to myself. But I also had this tiny flash go off in my brain, like "this is one of those moments." I couldn't help but think ahead to some time in the future, when the rest of Tucker's baby roundness is gone, and he has said "I" instead of "my" for so long we have forgotten it was his thing. When he doesn't need me to buckle his car seat straps because he is driving his own car. When it has been many years since we were together all day every day, checking away at an unwritten list of mundane daily activities.  

Will it feel like it has been just 10 minutes? 

In September, Tucker starts preschool. From that point on, he'll spend incrementally less and less time at home, and more and more time as his own person out in the big world. My sweet little boy. I don't dread the passing of time. I don't even really feel like I need to slow it down, or savor the moments, or any of that business.

I just kind of like sitting here while my toddler boys nap, typing a more sentimental blog post, and drinking in this bittersweet sensation of my children growing up, just as they should. 

After all, in 10 minutes their sister will be home from school, and I'll be frantically preparing her an early dinner and braiding her hair for her ice show dress rehearsal tonight. I'll be changing diapers, dumping plastic potties, refereeing fights, and, oh yes, I have to squeeze in a way to also pick up flowers from the school fundraiser between 3:30 and 5:30. In 10 minutes, I'll be going non-stop.

But according to my three-year-old, 10 minutes after that they'll be all grown up, just like Mommy and Daddy.

I guess that's A+ Parenting Today.