Doing my weekly shop.
Meandering round the shop, weaving in and out of everyone, throwing a lifetime supply of pasta in the trolley as that is the only thing my two year old eats.
Then it happened.
I walked past the baby aisle, and carried on.
The trolley didn’t turn down the aisle.
There was no need to stop to grab nappies, or wipes, or rice cakes, or pouches.
I walked past the baby aisle
And in doing so I acknowledged for the first time to myself, that my baby is no longer a baby.
He is potty training (kinda) he has all his teeth, he mostly sleeps through the night.
His age is no longer measured in months but in years.
A fully fledged toddler, pushing pre-schooler.
And I only realised the day I walked past the baby aisle, that my baby was no longer a baby.
Now I know I will walk back down the baby aisle. That baby wipes and nappies are still playing a part in our life, especially at night, but they are no longer the necessary essential they once were.
He doesn’t go through seventeen million nappies a day, with multiple blow outs up the back of his vest. Thank the lord because toddler poo is a whole different ball game to baby poo.
My baby is growing up
And I feel as though I’ve blinked and missed it.
He is no longer the tiny newborn snuggled in his moses basket. Big brother peering (mostly) adoringly on. Mewling through the night, the early breastfeeding days.
No more does he sit and watch with those big blue eyes, taking everything in around him. Quietly watching, assessing.
Gone are the highchair days, the fistfuls of food shovelled into his mouth with his hands. The mess. Oh lord, the mess. Less spaghetti on his face whilst eating. I said less, not none. We still have messy faces.
Crawling has been replaced by walking. Walking by running. Running by sprinting….
He is a walking, talking, tantrumming, two year old. His personality shines through his cheeky smile, his infectious giggle and adorable mispronounced words.
A little human.
Not a baby anymore.
And I only realised the day I walked past the baby aisle.