One minute he wants to watch Super Why (which he loved when he was 2), then when it's over he asks to watch the Avengers.
He needs a nightlight on at bedtime, but doesn't want to tell his friends that he has one.
He wants to snuggle on the couch with me, but then hops up to ninja-fight with his Daddy. (Actually, I'm hoping those aren't mutually exclusive - maybe he'll always want to cuddle with me?)
But it's just fun (and heart-wrenching) to watch him go between being my little boy, to not very little at all. And now that I think about it, I'm in between too.
In between missing rocking him to bed with a book every night and now, helping him learn to read. In between needing to do everything for him and watching him figure things out on his own. In between aching for him to stay little and beaming with pride as he gets big.
Time. I have a love/hate relationship with its effects on my kids. And it's just going to keep happening.
Be still my heart.