This evening I came into the nursery to feed your sister and put her to bed. There was just a little light spilling in from the hallway so that I could see, but it was enough to wake you. You quietly stood up and watched me from your crib. I finished nursing your sister and laid her down in her cradle and then came to say goodnight to you. You handed me your blanket, your sign that you’d like me to pick you up. I took the blanket and draped it over my shoulder, and then lifted you out of the crib and sat down in the rocker and held you, my first baby, in my arms. You smelled faintly of diaper cream and johnson’s baby wash, your hair soft and sweet nuzzled up under my chin. I rocked slowly, thinking about how quickly you are growing. I hear mothers all the time lament how quickly their children grow up, and now I understand. Every day you learn something new, reach some new milestone. I know it’s not possible, but I feel like I can see you looking just a little bit older in the morning than you did the night before. Is it possible that you are growing even faster in your sleep? I hold you in my arms and remember how, as a little baby, you did not want to be held when you were sleepy, but wanted to be put down so you could get on with the business of sleeping. And when you were awake, you did not want to be held because you wanted to get on with the business of playing. But now, at 21 months old, with a new baby sister, you seem to retreat into my arms more often. And I am happy to be here for you. My arms hold you a little tighter as I think of the boy you are becoming, the baby you are, my first, my dear son. Sleep tight and don’t grow too much tonight.