Thursday, May 03, 2007


I remember the firsts. The first smile. The first word. The first tooth. The first step. The first day of school. The first time riding a two wheeler. Those are what you are supposed to remember. And it's easy to know when the firsts happen because they've never happened before. But what about the lasts. Will I know when it's the last time they sit on my lap? Or the last time I read them a book? Will I remember the last time they ask for a song at bedtime or for me to lay with them until they fall asleep? Will I wake up and realize the last time one of them crawls in bed with us because he had a bad dream?

Last week I think I had a last.

Until now Josh has taken a bath. Sometimes with his brother and sometimes alone. I fully admit that bathtime is my least favorite time because for some reason it makes my children unable to hear me and they tend to ignore all requests to keep the water in the tub or pull the plug when it's time to get out. (Maybe they have water in their ears!) But last week Josh wanted to take a shower, so I showed him how to get the right water temperature and where to find everything he needed and off he went. When he was finished he dried and dressed and came out ready for bed. He was so proud of himself and he kept asking me if I was proud of him, too. Of course I was. My children taking another step toward independence does make me proud. And honestly, I thought it was a fluke; that he would return to the tub splashing and playing as always. But the last three bath nights he has wanted to take a shower and has gone through the whole process himself. At first I thought, "Ahh, one more thing that I don't have to do for him." But now I wonder.

If I would have known that the last time I helped Josh take a bath was the last time, I would have lingered a little longer over the shampoo. I wouldn't have complained about the splashing. I would have let him play for five more minutes when he asked. But I didn't know. I didn't know that it was the last time that my little boy would sit in the tub and look up at me with bubbles on his chin.

Now, more than ever, I will watch for the lasts. Because they seem to be happening more and more often and I don't want to miss even one.


Anonymous said...

The boys are growing up too fast. But I do have to say that if you miss the whole...wet floor, tub full of army men, fish nets, bubbles, cold water/hot water, thing...just let me know. You can come over tomorrow for bath day. I need the backup.


Katrina said...

You really know how to bring the tears! What a sweet, heart-squishing post! I'm not ready for the last anything yet, so let's just slow down for a minute, okay?

Oh, wait. I was rather happy to see that last diaper go out with the trash, so I guess there are exceptions...

Amy said...

oh I love this post. It is so very true. All of a sudden they don't mispronounce 'magazine' anymore, and they can tie their shoes (double knots!) without help, they can even fix a sandwich for Saturday lunch without you in the kitchen.

I miss it all. I miss it all.

marci said...

You have really caused me to pause and wonder where all of those "lasts" have gone. Last night as I pulled up to the Pizza Shoppe and looked at all of those long-haired, black clad rockers gathered for the concert meeting, I thought, "The Pizza Shoppe probably doesn't appreciate all of these guys standing outside scaring off business." Turns out they were waiting because there were two rec. department soccer teams celebrating the end of their season, and there weren't enough tables. I just wanted to go up to one of those soccer moms and say, "See that full-bearded young man with the studded belt and duct taped Converse? He played rec. department soccer, too."