Every night when we have dinner in the dining room, I look around at the pictures on that wall. In those, Big Brother was between the ages of 5 and 9; Middle Sister was a toddler, then a preschooler; Little Brother wasn't even born yet. I look at those pictures, and then I look at my kids. Big Brother is a high-school senior and I've spent the past four weekends touring colleges with him. Middle Sister and TheDad have gone off to an Open House at Big Brother's high school today. Next month she takes the placement test. And Little Brother, not to be left out in everyone else's Year of Big Steps, will receive two sacraments this school year.
Watching my kids grow up doesn't make me mourn for those baby-and-toddler days, though I do miss the funny mispronunciations and toothless grins. (Good thing I still have Little Brother around for that!) They're growing up, and I can't do a thing about it except worry a little, pray a lot, and try to enjoy the ride.
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