Baby Finn

I’ve recently noticed that I’ve developed a habit of calling Finn: ‘Baby Finn.’  I also am still referring to him as ‘the baby.’ He’s almost two.  I’m not sure why I do it.  Maybe it’s because I’m desperate to hold on to his babyhood for as long as I can.  Maybe it’s because it just seems like a few moments ago that I was holding his chubby baby body and looking down at his sweet little face for the first time.  But as he’s almost half my height and wearing clothes sized for a 3-and-a-half year old it’s come to a juncture where I can no longer feasibly call him ‘Baby Finn.’  Sooner or later I’m going to have to reign in my language and start calling him ‘Finn.’ 

I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it…

Suddenly I have some sympathy for those women who keep breastfeeding their kids till the age of five. “I just don’t know how to stop.” One of them confided in me once.  Well goodness.

The other day BB and I were at a restaurant and I heard the woman on the table next to ours say to the waiter: “And can we also get a glass of milk for the baby.” I swung my head around, eager to get a look at the cute little ‘baby’ but sat there was nothing but a  long legged six-year-old girl punching her older brother in the arm.  I kept a slight eye on the family for the rest of the meal.  No ‘baby’ showed itself at any time.  However when the glass of milk arrived the six year old stuck a straw in it and sucked down the whole thing. 

If I’m still calling Finn ‘Baby Finn’ by the time he’s out of diapers can someone please take me aside and have a word…



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