Is that a milestone?

For the past six years there has been a standard operating procedure when it comes to sick kids. This may sound kind of familiar to many of you. Essentially I woke up to the sound of Connor crying in his room. I went in to check on him and he told me one of two things, either a) I just threw up all over the place, or b) I'm going to throw up all over the place. In which case I did one of two things, either a) began to clean up vomit in his room, or b) rushed him to the bathroom. The rest of the night could be summed up in one word: repeat.

Last night I encountered a new experience. I woke up to the sound of someone puking in the bathroom. A quick check indicated that this person wasn't me (which lately it would have been) and it wasn't Ben. Since Sophia hasn't figured out that she can crawl out of her crib yet, I got out of bed to check on what could only be Connor throwing up in the bathroom. As I was leaving the room, he was coming in to tell me that he was sick and that he needed to throw up some more. He then calmly left the room, got sick again, left the bathroom, and crawled into bed.

I followed him to him room to check on him and asked him if he was okay. His response? "Yeah...just sick, Mom."

It suddenly hit me in this moment that my little boy is actually a little boy, not a baby, not a toddler, not a preschooler, but a little boy. A little boy that doesn't need me so completely anymore. This transition has taken six years, but also feels like it has happened in an instant. It makes a mom proud and also makes this mom feel that, like my son, I must be getting older.