Skip links

We only have 18 summers with our children

Summer is almost here and my mind is already skipping over all the exciting things we will experience with my little bunny. I’ll teach her to ride a bike without training wheels, we’ll spend all our days at the beach playing, and I don’t want to miss her expression when she sees a firefly for the first time.

I recently came across an article that got me thinking. “When you look at it startegically, we only have 18 summers with our kids.” My heart seemed to stop beating for a second. My daughter is 4 and I quickly thought “I only have 14 more summers with her”.

Burying our toes in the sand and building our memories as a family.

14 summers of enjoying lazy Sunday afternoons, sprawled on the couch blissfully, phones off. Or to go into hiding with her and play hide and seek and our own secret games.

14 summers of childhood, the time that rightfully guarantees the presence of a child under our roof. Where we grow together and build his sense of a meaningful world that will one day make him a happy adult.

14 summers to throw yourself head over heels and study. Going on adventures, discovering new places, even if they are in our city, or in a hidden corner of our park.

14 summers, drenched with the smell of pancakes on a Sunday morning and lime from the park in front of us. Melon-flavored time and dad’s spaghetti.

14 ways to celebrate Christmas with presents, fancy dress, fairytale stories and lots of real emotions. Because Christmas becomes a celebration precisely from the sparkle in my daughter’s eyes, which draws us all into the magic of the holiday. Without it, everything would be just another dinner.

14 summers where I have the greatest happiness of having my daughter all mine.

Searching for mine with her little hand, telling me that she loves me to the stars, that she never wants us to be apart, that I’m the best mom in the world… Before I know it she’ll be an adult, she’d rather spend time with friends and say “Ugh, mommyoooo” when I call her on the phone.

14 summers of travel, sleeping in airports and the sweetness of getting lost in a new place like a classic tourist.

14 summers of lemonade, ice cream and trampolines.

14 summers of lotions, trolleys, picnics in the park and walks in Vitosha.

I do not want to mourn the time that is yet to come.

But I realize that it burns with the speed of a Bengal fire. And once I can hit “pause” and extend the sparkle of the sparks, I’ll savor every second of our moments together here and now.

Because there’s magic in childhood math – 2 quickly becomes 10, 10 becomes 15, and 15 becomes “I promise to call you from time to time, Mommy.”

Don’t miss your 18 summers with your kids!

Leave a comment

Този сайт използва бисквитки.