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We took Nicholas to one of the larger parks in town the other day. I thought we could see if he liked the slide, with Mom or Dad going down it with him, of course. Would he be interested? Would he be intimidated by the drop (one of his sisters is not wild about heights)? Would he cry and cling to Mama?

Of course, the kid loved the slide. And after a couple times, he went down on his own - Dad guiding him from the top and Mom catching him below. Pretty soon, he was toddling off the slide, up the steps and back over to the top - with the watchful but unneeded parent hustling after him. And in the middle of all this fun, I got a little melancholy. I realized that every day my little boy needs me a little bit less. Not that I want a 30-year-old hanging around the house, afraid to go down a slide. But sometimes I miss the little baby who depended on me for everything. Not to mention a kid I could lift without risk of a hernia.

Kids grow up. They get independent. And the best we can do, I suppose, is wait at the bottom of the slide. Just in case they need us.