Oh boy. Pea just keeps crawling out of her crib. Yesterday, my husband lowered it to the very last setting and still, this morning, there she was. Only this time? I heard a little “thump” and when she found me in the den, jaw on the floor, she announced that she had a boo-boo.

“That’s it,” my husband said. “Tomorrow, we find a side rail and we move her into her bed.”

Cue the waterworks.

I feel like it’s too soon. And yet you all tell me no, if she’s ready than she’s ready. And I appreciate all of the helpful advice: side rails, letting her pick out her own linens, a special doll. It all makes sense, and I’ve added it all to my list. But my God, why does it feel so awful? I know she’s not going to be a baby forever, but she’s my baby, and I just feel so weepy over this. A big girl bed. The bed I used as a child, and now my child will rest her weary body in it at the end of a long day. Wow. It’s just an enormous milestone. You know it’s coming, but as with all the other milestones, as we hit them over the last two years, I was just kind of blind-sided. It just goes by so quickly. One minute, I’m picking out her first set of big girl linens and the next thing I know, I’m the mother-of-the-bride at her wedding to a man who is going to take my baby girl and move out-of-state!

Where does time go? And why does it go so quickly?

This is not the face of a baby. This is the face of a little girl.