Kyle uses a step-stool to brush his teeth and turn on the light in the bathroom when he needs it. He used to stretch to the sink even when he was standing on the top step and each day, as he grows, I can see that there is an end to him needing it. A year or two, I don't know how long it'll take. But we'll toss the step-stool into our garage one of these days, just like we tossed every toy or baby tool before it. We won't need it one day. That's just how it goes.
Every time I look into my purse, there are matchbox cars or legos or sippy cups. (It's a big purse, yes.) I smile each time. A piece of my little guy, when I'm in a meeting or at lunch or at the store without him. It's comforting, it's everything.
One day those reminders will be tossed out, too.
(Wow, this got SAD and quick.)
What I really wanted to say, to capture in one quick post, was that I have a step-stool in my (very small) bathroom that I often stub my toes on and legos in my purse that I often stab my fingers on, and ohhhhh do I wish they could stay there forever.