“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in awhile, you just might miss it.” – Ferris Bueller
An old friend, Allison, is adept at movie quotes. I am not. I know maybe five stellar quotes that I can rattle off, and that’s it. Try as I might.
And that one from Ferris Bueller is one of my favorites.
And why I write here. And take so many pictures. Because I want to document everything. The little moments. The big moments. And everything in between.
Because, seriously, you blink and the moment is gone.
Babies have grown up. Leaves have changed color. Hair gets cut. Graduations happen. Dinner is eaten.
It all happens so fast.
And writing a lot of it down, and capturing so much by way of photographs, allows me to freeze little bits and moments in time.
And these kids. They’re growing up so fast. I love the age they’re in (who am I kidding? I’ve loved all the ages so far), and wish I could hold them right here forever.
Up until a few weeks ago, Madeline and I had a pact. I wouldn’t make her wear dresses. And she wouldn’t fuss on the few occasions that actually necessitated her wearing a dress. A perfect arrangement.
But then all the sudden, she wanted dresses. Sundresses. Cute twirling, swirly dresses. I bought her one, figuring we’ll see how long this phase lasts. And she wore it three days in a row (albeit with a washing in the middle).
And she learned that life didn’t end with her wearing a dress. And that she got compliments. And that she kind of loved it.
So Friday night, with her brother at a friend’s house for a sleepover, and having me all to herself, she asked if we could go dress shopping.
And as soon as I finished choking on my drink from the surprise of the request, we set off. Of course, since we’re rounding the corner on summer, sundresses are a bit harder to find, but we snagged a couple on a few clearance racks.
And then a leopard print purse. To which there was much debate as to if it should be worn just on her shoulder, or across her body (we went with the latter). And then a request for fake nails. A request she has been making for quite awhile now, and one I have mostly avoided.
And now she plans outfits the night before, takes her purse nearly everywhere, and approves Instagram pictures before I put them up. She reminds me she’s nearly five and a half, and I remind her that she is still my baby and she’s not allowed to grow up any more.
But darn it, if she isn’t changing right before my eyes. They both are.
And of course, as much as I want them to stay in this exact moment, with equal ferocity, they want to grow up.
And so it goes.
Tomorrow? We talk milk.
Thursday? A restaurant review.