My Saturday morning was bittersweet. Auntie Becky's homemade cinnamon rolls helped, but the morning's activities flooded me with wistful sadness.

If only my little boy would stay little.

As we sipped our black coffee and devoured our rolls, we helped Hank out of his shoes.

We backed him up squarely against the family measuring wall.

Grandma ran the pencil—she always does it best—and made that permanent mark on the wall.

18 months.

An inch or so taller than his oldest cousin Alexa, at that age.

Boy he's getting big. We all said, Halfway to two!

I smiled a proud smile and stuffed my melancholy. I knew these days would fly by, everyone told me they would. My 87 year-old grandpa's words echoed in my brain…

Nowadays, every memory feels like it was just yesterday.

And he's right. It was.

Just yesterday, I cried for days next to my blindfolded newborn as he laid under UV lights, fighting horrible jaundice.

Just yesterday, he turned one, finally figuring out how to walk.

Just yesterday, he said “Dad” for the first time.

And today, we are going through hand-me-downs from cousins which are a little too big, but not for long.

Hank wants to wear his new (to him) shoes home, so I let him.

One falls off as he runs across the lawn once we're home, racing towards his daddy.

I'm relieved. I'm not ready for him to be in those shoes yet, anyways.

Not size 9's.

Daddy scoops him up and carries him around, upside-down, squealing. He once again looks little, in his big daddy's arms; so again, I can breathe.

I watch in awe as my bear of a husband brings fits of giggles out of that little boy.

That evening as I cook dinner, I smile again and my heart warms as I listen to my big husband and my small son playing in his room. Daddy reads him his construction book, making perfect excavator and road grader sounds, and Hank is deliriously happy.

They both are. I hear my husband's love for that miniature version of himself in his dump truck sounds—his whole heart in each rumble and crash.

I realize then how my mom was exactly right, with her theory on little boys. She told me, when I found out Hank was a boy, to be ready to have a little boy forever. She reminds me, from time to time, how little boys never grow up; they just get longer pants.

I guess they have to get bigger shoes, too.

***