The Comet's Tail

At what point will the “Little Guy” want to stop being called the Little Guy? As he trapes his blanky around (to a lesser extent) throughout the rest of the house, it seems he is growing up too...

Too fast and too cute and too quick and too clever.

It is such close agony to get him ready for bed and all pottied up, and changed into pajamas and just about tucked in, when the realization succumbs to fruition that - the blanky is missing! The yellowish colored blanky that has proceeded him around the house like the tail of a comet for the past couple years. It regularly gets left behind and lost down the stairs through the day, amongst the grown up mess of rooms and pillows and cushions.

There was a time, years back now, when the oldest was caught sucking down chocolate early some morning following Easter like a fly attracted to something sweet.  Or when the older brother could be heard quietly retreating down the stairs at 5 AM overanxious to test out his computer skills. Each becoming as independent as Will Smith on the set of some movie about aliens or zombies or alcoholic superheroes. Now the "little guy" is not quite so little.

He is coming into his own, making the jump from instinct to some loose form of premeditated decision making.

The Little Guy is the comet's tail and what a responsibility that is, offering up occasional flash and elemental basics. It's the tail that provides trace of existence in an overwhelming universe of expanding space. A signature flare, like the tail of a peacock, proud and bright and odd - different, existent. The comet’s tail has nothing to do with the direction of the comet, but the solar wind pushes it so that it always points away from the sun. All too often our relativity here on Earth makes "normal" sense - a good reason to think big and beyond.

Image courtesy via CC

So, "Little Guy", don’t become too independent too fast. Stay short and little and feel free to take naps in the middle of the floor a little while longer. At least until dad gets over being sick and mom gets her weekend/bookend sleep-in completed.

Then we will get you some milk and watch the comet circle the sun and race off to places only 3's are supposed to go – but you will still be the comet’s tail to us, though surely at some point, “the little guy” will lose its luster.