The Year He Learned to Swim

It was 2010.
It was the year he turned four.
The summer of his first run at school- preschool.
It was the year he learned to swim.

Not too many milestones have reduced this usually sappy mommy to tears.  An odd admission since those who know me well know sometimes I can't even make it through the movie previews without the water works coming on.  Just yesterday when reading to the kids I babbled my way through Guess How Much I Love You,  a children's book all of 150 words and literally had to take a moment before I could finish reading the final sentence.

But this year at swim lessons I found myself feeling quite emotional.
Definitive lines are being crossed and my senses keep reminding me of all the changes.
My ears can hear the baby talk leaving him.
My nose smells the gel in his hair and says- that's not your baby anymore.
My fingers comb through her long, lovely, almost three year old hair and wonder- when did her hair get SO long?
And last month my eyes witnessed my little boy swim for the very first time by- himself. 

Good job, Luke! 

I love you right up to the moon- and back!