Their longs limbs no longer fit into the tiny clothes I pack up into bins, give away. The tiny newborn sizes give way to sturdy legs and chubby 9 month old thighs.
Those give way to 9 year old limbs, long and strong and full of self importance, the good kind, the confidence that he can accomplish what he sets out to accomplish. I'm not keeping baby clothes anymore but passing them on as soon as they become too small.
But still I keep the Girl's clothes, watching as hemlines and jeans creep up higher and higher, putting them away for the little sister who, all to soon, is losing the baby fat that dimples at her wrist and lengthening her legs, all the while keeping her torso the same.
It goes too fast, this season. The older ones point poignant reminders at the younger of how fleeting this all is, how quickly bodies and minds fill up and expand and move on. I snuggle the baby close, hold him tight against the waves of time, even as I let go of the too small sleepers. I will pretend to eat the back of his neck and make him giggle and try as much as I can to stay right now, because I finally understand that I can't get now back again once it's gone. Not ever. Some seasons only come once.