A month ago in church, the Baptism coordinator came up to me and said, you have a baptism coming up soon huh?
I almost passed out. Literally, immediately my heart raced and my body tensed up.
She was still SIX!
I responded, you mean in 13 months? She hasn't even turned 8 yet.
And she giggled, oh yeah she's a December birthday, her baptism will probably be in January but she turns 8 next year.
I know her baptism is coming up, I think about it probably weekly. I hug her bony body
and wonder what happened to my baby?
Do you know how long she's been counting down to her baptism? Since she turned 6.
Do you know how long I mourned that I would never buy her another dress in the toddler section? I stopped wanting to cry in the toddler section about 6 months ago.
Her cousins that she plays with are starting to get baptized, her friends are starting to get baptized, I know its coming, but I'm not ready to pass off the next 12 months.
She still has 12 months where the Light of Christ will save her. There is something happens once they turn 8, they are capable of concrete thinking. I don't know how to explain it, but its different. I was so excited for my oldest to turn 8, for this new milestone. With her I just want to hold on to her baby years a little bit longer. And I have that bit long, I have 11 months left.
When we moved here she was 2 and half. She wasn't in primary yet. She was in Nursery. I was primary teacher the second Sunday we lived here I taught the kids who were turning 8 that year. They were the first people I met in the ward. Do you know what they are doing now, they are passing the Sacrament. I look at them and I think what happened to my CTR 8 year olds? When did they grow up. I knew them when they still were practically babies. I have a freakish sense of time, its extremely overwhelming, I can see seeds of it in two of my boys, and I have only sympathy for them, when they tell me their concerns with time passing. I feel it, extremely deeply. Its rough, she is so excited about her baptism. She talks about it weekly, I'm not excited, but I can't tell her that. So I hug her bony body cradled in my arms like she is a baby, as she giggles because she loves to be held like a baby. Which is ironic, since she never liked to be held like a baby as a baby. Either fully upright, or screaming. If I could go back and do it again, would I? No, it was a lot of work, but I earned that work, and so now I don't have to wish she would grow up faster. Sure I wish she wouldn't cry when I ask her to brush her hair, but that doesn't mean I wish she was done with first grader. Second grade is far too old for me.
Kindergarten, 1st grade and 2nd are my favorite age by far. Younger then that and they are so exasperating. Older than that and they get too close to the tween stage. We have a full on tween in the house and I dread the teenage years already.