Tubs of Clothes

I put another big tub o' clothes for H in the basement this afternoon...we're keeping sterilite in business.

Some summer 12-18 month, all the Fall 12-18 month clothes. Winter 12-18 month (she tends to change sizes 1/2way thru the season), all the 12-24 month socks (yes, she's up to a size 7 shoe!), all the bibs (she has refused them for like 5 months), tons of pjs...and some beautiful dresses.

Now her clothes look like little kid clothes. The ones in the tub look like baby clothes. Now I have to offer her two choices of shirts and socks - she's not the passive little one I'd scoop up in my arms, carry to the closet, see what I was in the mood for and dress her up. Now, she will howl if she wants the polka dot coat and I show her the purple one. Her socks don't look like booties anymore.

I felt a sentimental twinge when I carried that box down the stairs. Much more than the last box I stored. Maybe it's the talking, the opinions, the running, the climbing, the fast mastery of the buttons on the DVD player as of late. Maybe it's the fact she knows all her body parts, and is quickly learning her colors (the better to reject my clothing choices!), and knows all but the obscure animals.

But about an hour after I took that box down, I realized something...I look forward to the time with the kid that fits in these 2T tops and has the opinions that she can share way more than I miss the baby that is in those boxes downstairs.