Earlier this week, Miss P and I went to my son’s PreK-1st grade music concert.   Mr. B had to remain in a holding area, so we dropped him off and headed in to the gym.  As soon as we walked in, my daughter saw a couple of her friends from class.

And within seconds, I was surrounded by a gaggle of giggly little girls.

The Younger Sibling Group.  There are about 6-8 of them who had older siblings in the concert.   And these little girls sniffed each other out in the crowd and gravitated towards each other like a men to a large screen television.

Being that they’re all younger siblings, this is no docile, meek group.  These girls, while sweet and loving, all also have strong personalities.  Voices that have had to stand up to older siblings and don’t take no for an answer.

But who also love fiercely.  Their older siblings, and their friends.

Image credit: anatols / 123RF Stock Photo

The scene was pretty cute, actually.  This pack of preschoolers.  A tiny girl gang.  Armed with the power of adorableness.  It started off with three of them, including my daughter, greeting each other and begging to sit together.

Then, another friend would enter the gym and the squealing would begin.  “Oh!  There’s Sally!  SALLY!  OHHHH SAAAAALLLLYYY!!!  Come sit with us!”  Accompanied by clapping hands and bouncing up and down, as if Santa had just strided in to the gym.

Even though they JUST saw each other a mere two hours earlier at school.

At one point, 6 little preschoolers were squished on to the bench in front of me, laughing, hugging, admiring toys that had been lugged along.  There were also some moments of annoyance, shoving, and complaining.  The chances of that kind of initial joy and happiness lasting throughout the concert were slim, but man, was it fun to experience while it lasted.

I can remember that feeling as a kid.  Of your friends being the most magical, best thing on the planet, your whole world.  Until one of them tries to steal your Polly Pocket.  Then all bets are off.

As I stared at the back of their little cherub heads, lined up in a row from blonde to dark brown hair, a pink-sprinkled bench, I began to think about copying and pasting this same scenario 10 years from now.

How different will that be?  These six, sweet, exuberant little ladies having outgrown Strawberry Shortcake and Dora.  Will they still be this ecstatic to see each other across the room?

Who will be the ring leader? Who will have the first sleep over?  Who will get them all in Big Kid Trouble first?  Who will spread the gossip? Who will hurt someone’s feelings first?  Can they avoid that?

I sure hope so.

I can’t seem to let my kids grow up just yet.  They are 6 and 3 years old, and while I’m enjoying some of the things that come with having older kids (like banishing diapers, being a little more lax with screen time limits, not cutting grapes anymore, un-babyproofing the house…), I still can’t bear the thought that my kids, my spawn, aren’t babies anymore.

We took the protective railing off of Miss P’s big girl bed in the week before we moved, and I felt a flash of panic.  Once we took it off, there was no going back.  Luckily she hasn’t fully explored the freedom that comes from being out of bed jail, and she hasn’t fallen out of her bed yet either.

Truly it was her that was ready for a while and it was me that was holding her back.

I’d like to say that my hesitation to let them move on from infancy stops there.  But it doesn’t.

Please tell me I’m not the only mom that still washes their preschooler and 1st grader’s clothes in Dreft?  Because man, I love the way their clothes and bedding smells when I do.  It makes my boobs ache a little bit just smelling it, like the smell of their first few newborn days at home with us.

I still bathe them in J&J’s lavender baby bath soap.  Again, because of the smell.  And out of sheer laziness.  It’s soap AND shampoo!

I will pony up the moula to bring home those big full-sized chamois bed sheets from Pottery Barn Kids because its all the kids have ever known to sleep in.  A cocoon of the softest fabric in the planet.  The kind that you touch and want to sink in to, resurfacing from slumber only to get a snack.

Sure, they can sleep on regular sheets.  But then I’d have to face the fact that they could maybe do without the cozy sheets they’ve had since they were babies.

And if they can get by without those sheets, if they can withstand regular adult laundry detergent and normal shampoo and soap, what else can they get by without?   Mommy cuddles in the morning or when they’re sad?  Holding my hand for no reason?    Kisses to booboo’s in lieu of a bandaid?

Do I have to give all that up?