The big moments are easy to remember — first steps, first words, first time they eat something green without protest.
But it’s the small moments that catch me off guard.
Like tonight, when my son dragged his blanket across the living room and curled up on the floor, right in the middle of everything. The dog walked around him, I stepped over him, and still he stayed there — perfectly still, perfectly content, just watching the lights flicker and change colours on the ceiling.
There was nothing special about the moment. No milestone. No camera. No applause.
But it was one of those rare pauses where I saw him — not as a blur racing past me, not as a to-do list, not as the next thing I need to feed or change or teach — just as a little person in his own little world.
It made me stop. It made me sit down with him, right there on the floor. We didn’t talk…or his version of talking, anyway. We didn’t need to.
Parenting feels like this most of the time — a rush of doing and fixing and getting through the day — but sometimes, if I’m lucky, it slows down just enough to let me notice.
And those are the moments I hold onto.
The CJBuzz 