Babies and Birds

We have a bird house nailed directly above our front door. We didn't put it there. It was just there. And sure enough a Mommy bird decided to move in. A week or so ago I heard the telltale chirpings of a nestful of babies. You can tell when Mommy leaves because the chirping starts abruptly and halts the moment she returns. These chirpings have gotten noticeably louder in the past few days. The babies are almost ready to take flight.

My baby bird got a haircut last night. It was about time. He was starting to look like a homeless kid or at least a kid with a lazy mother. So I took him in to some Tunisian man who came highly recommended by our Armenian Godfather. He said I'd get a deal. Well, I didn't. Fifteen minutes of fast-flying hands and 25 euro later, we emerged...with the cutest haircut ever! All blowdried up in the front and held in place with some styling gel. With that one haircut, my little baby was no more.

And the next day was his last day of preschool for the year. He didn't cry this time but didn't quite sing with the other kids either, instead opting to sit with Mom. Oh well. No biggie. Four 6-year olds were "graduating" and they had a special little ceremony for them. As I watched a few of their mothers' eyes well up, I couldn't control my own. I cried for the very same reason they were: Realizing my baby is growing up.

And when you're only planning to have one, that realization hits home even harder. I will miss the days of carrying him around on my hip, spoonfeeding him, cradling him in my arms, running right behind him and catching afternoon naps together. I miss the little baby he was. And as I saw a few older folks perched on little chairs in that classroom, another lump rose in my throat. His grandparents have missed it the most. Even writing that last phrase chokes me up.