As I hold Ruby before bed, rocking in our little rocking chair, I am struck by how big she is. This girl who was so tiny the day we brought her home from the birth center. I used to be able to hold her body on my forearm as she nursed, but now she fills my lap and arms. It all happens so gradually, so infinitely slowly that you can’t mark the change from one moment to the next. But with the inexorable press of time, her tiny body has grown and changed. Now she walks and runs, speaks little words, calls me “Ommy” and knocks on doors she wishes to enter. With enough effort, she can properly stack Duplo blocks.
But at the same time, she’s still so little. While walking is a feat long under her belt, she still falls down routinely because balance is hard. She needs a helping hand to go down the stairs. She often needs help getting up onto the couch, and all of the hurts in the world can be healed with a cuddle and a nurse.
I suppose it’s a paradox that will manifest in different ways as she grows. Big and small, small and big; learning so much while having so much left to learn. Perhaps it’s something we are all still going through.