Oh my goodness. The backpacks and fresh hair cuts and first day of school outfits. My friends have the cutest back to school kids ever.

I swept my sleeping son out of his crib the other night and rocked him in our little white armchair. I smelled his hair and listened to him breath. And I tried to imagine sitting at our kitchen table helping him study for spelling tests or memorize capitol cities. I tried to picture baseball practice and a secret 8th grade girlfriend.

And I can't. I just can't.

I have a pretty clear picture of the next season. I can imagine our house filled with train tracks and legos, potty training, and forts made out of sheets and pillows. I can see us doing that. I can see Matt and Oliver wrestling and rolling around on the floor.

But spelling tests belong to a completely different person, in a completely different home, at a completely different kitchen table. Not ours, with avocado currently smeared across one of the chairs and a messy high chair tray set on top.

It's not that I don't want to picture it.

I just can't even fathom.

But I hear you, when you say time flies. And I believe you.

And so before nap time, I held him again, and we rocked and rocked. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, resting against my chest. Sleepy sighs. Twitching fingers. Lovey snugged up against his cheek.

And I thought of you mommas, sending your babies with their back packs and school supplies through a classroom door. And I thought how very brave you are. And I dedicated that rocking chair session to you, and to future me, sitting at the kitchen table with spelling words and pencils. Please keep reminding me how fast it goes.

I forget. I get lost in diapers and sippy cups and long afternoons. And I don't breath it in deeply enough.