I don't keep a baby book for Micah. I know you're thinking, well of course not. The boy is 11 years old. But honestly, he's still working on some milestones that one would record in a baby book. Losing teeth, for instance. He's lost a total of 4 teeth. The others are firmly entrenched in his gumline, and x-rays show that his adult teeth are there but not nearly ready to come in yet. So many other milestones are subjective. I'm looking at you, speech. This is part of the reason that I blog. It's easier to keep track of big and important things here than it is in a book that doesn't have time lines or space for kids like Micah.
I was in town the other day with the kids when I noticed that Micah's shorts had a smudge on the bottom. They were plaid, so it wasn't noticeable right up front. But the more I looked, the more I saw. That smudge was the tip of the smudgy ice burg that blotched the entire plaid goodness of his shorts. They went way past the dirty status and jumped with both legs right into the filthy camp. I'm not even sure how I missed all the dirt earlier once I realized how dirty they really were.
It was embarrassing. That's what that was. We're the dirty people, obviously.
I contemplated how on earth Micah got so dirty in the few hours he'd worn those shorts, and finally came to the realization that my boy had reached another milestone in his development. He chooses favorite articles of clothing and will wear them at all costs. Even if that means digging them out of the dirty laundry bin to have another wear or three before mom can get them washed.
That boy invents ways to make me proud every day. But I did wash his shorts when we got home.