I always figured I'd know when my baby was no longer a baby. A couple of days ago he turned 18 months old which is the time most baby books say 'no longer our territory, you're on your own now soldier!'. He celebrated by being pretty stroppy, eating nothing but two yoghurts and catching us all on the hop by sleeping through for the first time in yonks. Standard small toddler fare.
But then. But then. It took me noodling about with new desktop pictures to come across this one again. Taken in early November, it actually made me catch my breath. Walking on reins? Wearing a Bob the Builder hat selected by small self? Heading towards the road in a different direction from Mummy? This is toddler stuff all right.
I have dreadful suspicions I might become one of those awful women who ruffle the hair of their 33 year old son, who is married with 2 kids, and say 'But he's still my baby!'. If anyone catches me doing that, please show me this picture again and remind me he grew out of babyhood and into his own little person a long time ago.