I picked the boys up from nursery on Tuesday, to be greeted with mucho excitement and the news —
‘Cosmo has had a wee-wee in the potty!’
This milestone has affected me in more ways than one and triggered a whole series of emotions.
The first was pride. My tiny boy is growing up and ticked off quite a big thing off his ‘to-do’ list. The developmental markers have slowed a lot down recently and, I guess, potty training is the next really huge landmark in the lives on my little sons.
This little event was a huge deal at nursery and the key-workers and other children were delighted about it.
The second feeling was a bit like a kick in the stomach; keen disappointment that I’d missed this amazing, momentous occasion.
Followed by a creeping realisation that it marks the start of an entirely new phase.
Not the ‘out of nappies’ phase (although the thought of that does fill me with a mild — did I say mild? —panic) but the fact that my little boy, for the first time in his short life, has done something for the first time without my being there.
I’ve missed ‘a first’ in the life of my baby.
And that, my friends, is a sobering thought. No longer wholly dependent on me, one of my two tiny sons is well on his way to a life of independence.
Better get used to it mama.