Exersaucer

Often times, I think being as nostalgic as I am is a bit of a curse. For example, a while back I rescued J.P.'s broken video monitor from the trash can before Jude could throw it out. I couldn't bear to give it up, remembering all the times Jude and I had passed it back and forth in bed at night, taking turns watching J.P. sleep. Voyeurs of a sort, I guess.

Tonight, Jude and I were cleaning up the house a bit, as she's hosting her book club here tomorrow evening. She asked me to take the Exersaucer out to the garage. Now, mind you, J.P. couldn't fit in it anymore if he wanted to. And, in fact, it just sits in the hall so we can set things on it - his jackets, shoes, hats, etc. Still, I felt a flutter in my heart - seriously - as I picked it up and carried it outside.

I stopped on our back porch and, for old times sake, pushed the dog, cat, cow, lion and duck buttons one last time, listening to the voice say "dog," followed by the different music behind each object. Yes, I felt nostalgic as I remembered all the times J.P. had sat in the Exersaucer, playing and hitting the buttons to hear the dog bark or the cat meow, as Jude and I at dinner or just watched him.

My son is 3 years old, pushing 3 1/2 soon and for the life of me, I just cannot understand how the time is passing by so quickly. I suspect I've said this before, but it's like I'm on a roller coaster that's headed down hill, picking up speed, and I'm helpless to slow it down. I am enjoying the ride, but sometimes I'd like to have times to savor it a little more.