Kid fingers

My mom always tells the story of my nails. When I was a teeny baby she accidentally nipped my finger, I bled and she cried. After four children she can still claim that she never again trimmed baby nails, just in case. I've always been the nail trimmer in my house. Always being super careful not to trim them too short or accidentally pinch their sweet skin. Yesterday I was trimming my Big's fingernails and I noticed something. They were no longer the sweet, Tiny Chiclet nails of a baby, they had changed. Overnight they had morphed into kid fingers.

At first glance they were the same, a little raggedy with a bit of dirt under the nails from playing outside but somehow they looked completely different. More capable, sure of themselves, like they had fun without needing my help. Long gone are the baby fingers that would hold my necklace while he nursed or the the sticky little paws that just didn't seem to ever come clean. I guess I will enjoy my big kid fingers while I can, trimming them carefully until he doesn't need me to do it anymore.