The Backpack

A couple of months ago we went down to the beach as a family. We loaded up Scott’s backpack with towels, diapers, and water and stuck a few snacks inside Lincoln’s teddy bear backpack. After three hours, we headed up to the car and on the way Lincoln said, “I am getting too old for this backpack, Maverick can have it now.” He didn’t ask for a new one, he simply gave it away.

On the drive home, I said sadly to Scott, “He is too little to already think he’s too old for his backpack.”

Scott explained, the best he could, that this was a good thing, that somehow Lincoln could recognize socially that teddy bears were no longer cool. This only made me sadder. He was only four. Teddy bears are suppose to still be cool.

Over the next couple of months I watched him struggle with this backpack. A part of him still loved it, and I would find him shoving toys inside, but another part of him knew it was time to part with it and he would give it to Maverick repeatedly. It made me sad as I silently watched him battle this stepping-stone. I finally told him we would buy him a new backpack and this comforted and gave him the reassurance to give the backpack away permanently. When we went to Idaho, grandma Jones bought him a brand new shark backpack. I guess sharks are cooler than teddy bears?

To me it was bigger than a childish teddy bear backpack. It was the first time Lincoln has ever not wanted something and was the start of him growing up.  Today he has outgrown teddy bears, but in a year of two he will be “too big” for his shark backpack. One day he won’t want me to kiss him goodnight, he won’t wrap his arms around me and tell me how much he loves me, he will be too old to hold my hand, and bedtime stories will be for “kids”. One day he will have a new best friend and he will no longer say he is going to marry me because that is just weird. One day he will be too old to cry in my arms when he is sad and will go to the comfort of his friends instead.

So today I enjoy him being four. I enjoy him climbing into my bed every morning. I enjoy getting him cups of water that he can’t quite reach himself. I enjoy driving him to school, cleaning up his toys, and making him lunch. I enjoy him talking non-stop and climbing on my lap when he needs attention. I enjoy him asking for help and crying when he disappoints me. I enjoy playing with him when he needs a friend and look forward to fighting bad guys and monsters for fun. I enjoy his scribbled papers and artwork all over my fridge. I even enjoy his tears over a torn sticker.

I enjoy him being four because one day he will be five, then six, and eventually twenty-nine and I won’t get another chance to love him when he’s four.

On Monday he started his first day of preschool and his excitement made me excited for him. He craves friends and asks every single day if he can have a friend come play. I knew it was time for him to go to school, but it made me a little sad to see how eager he was to leave me. I could barely squeeze in a hug before he took off to his classroom! I spent a lot of time researching preschools and finally found one up to my standards. He attends a Baptist preschool that is three days a week for 2 1/2 hours each day. He has now finished his first week and his teachers haven’t stopped commenting on how sweet and polite he is. I couldn’t agree more. He is my little angel.

I often ask if him if he will like me when he’s a teenager, and he always says, “I will LOVE you when I’m a sheenger. I will always love you.”

The teddy bear backpack now sits in Maverick’s closet waiting for the day he will wear it around. One day he will grow too big for cuddly things too.

If only I could freeze time.

First day of preschool