History of little people

As you draaaag yourself into a shower in which you barely get wet because you're in and out wiping bottoms, as you make yet another vegemite sandwich-sultana-crackers lunch box, get lots of little people dressed, sometimes twice or thrice, as you brush hair, teeth and your own legs (who has time for that shaving thing), clickety clack everyone into the car and zoom off down the street to drop children hopefully at the right destination, think of this....
The other day I was driving past a gym where I once took my first born son to a childrens sporting class. He was painfully shy. Memories came flooding back, of ME skipping across the hall, carrying him, ME doing the little peoples stretches while he clung to me for dear life, and me feeling the tears well up when finally, finally he forgot he was in a social situation and he kicked the ball and smiled at the person he kicked it to.
The sight of that gym bought back an overwhelming memory, which came with a rush of all the feelings I felt at the time, and crystal clear images of my tiny little nearly-2 year old boy petrified, but gradually less so.
Our little boy is no longer as shy and makes new friends at the park where he once screamed in terror. That memory, strong as it was, seemed like such a long time ago. It seemed like history.
Not much in a life with little people under your feet seems like a long time ago. It's all now, now, now, I WANT IT NOW!
Note to self: Absorb the moments. They are history all too soon.

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