Last week, Malone was home from school on a random Tuesday (thank you, Veterans). I saw it as an opportunity for us to go, explore, and see. He’s in Kindergarten now and I miss our adventures.

Malone saw it as an opportunity to stay home. He flat out refused to get dressed and leave the house. He wanted to be home with his toys and his sister.

We spent the day playing together. By the end of the day, the house was in shambles. Literally, there were toys everywhere. I started to groan in my head about picking up toys when I realized something.

I’m going to miss this mess.

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I’m going to miss vintage Fisher Price Little People lined up in a row and waiting for the concert to start.

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I’m going to miss playing mail box and shoving flash cards through slotted hole of the mailbox my grandfather made out of scrap wood and an old Folger’s coffee can.

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I’m going to miss school bus accidents and little boy fingers driving the green recycling truck around the city.

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I’m going to miss airplane noises.

I am bummed this came out so blurry, but so thankful to have caught the airplane noise face!

I am bummed this came out so blurry, but so thankful to have caught the airplane noise face!

I’m going to miss babies who love books and big brothers reading, sounding the stories out syllable by syllable.

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I’m going to miss monster trucks.

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And vintage Little People  going potty.

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I get it now. I really do. When old ladies stop and tell me they miss it when their kids were little.

They’re sleeping now. And when they wake up, they’ll be a bit bigger than they were the day before.

I miss yesterday already.

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I’m going to miss this mess.