The hard-hitting signs that your baby is growing older

As my daughter sat quietly enjoying her breakfast — thoroughly focused on her bowl of Cheerios — I gently combed through her hair. Seizing the rare moment of stillness, I carefully parted and styled it into two pigtails.

Stepping back to admire my handiwork, I realized these weren’t the haphazard tufts I used to wrestle into place. These were real pigtails. Symmetrical, smooth, and curling softly at the ends. A subtle wave of emotion hit me — when had she grown enough hair for real pigtails?

Tears prickled unexpectedly. In that simple morning routine, I had stumbled upon a surprising milestone: the end of baby hair and the beginning of "little kid" hair. As adorable as she looked, a small part of me felt a pang of loss. I wasn’t quite ready for this change. Just months ago, I was struggling to clip back wisps of baby hair — now here we were, transitioning without warning.

Some milestones come with fanfare — the first steps, the first words — events we eagerly anticipate and prepare for. But others arrive quietly, sneaking up on us. These are the moments that catch us off guard, the ones we never expected to feel so significant.

I was reminded of another subtle shift just a few months back, drying her off after a bath. I leaned in, expecting the familiar baby scent, only to realize it had been replaced by something new — clean, damp hair. I turned to my husband, confused. “She smells... different,” I said. “She smells like clean wet hair, not a baby anymore.”

That seemingly small change held as much weight in my heart as her first wobbly steps. It was a symbol of her becoming her own little person — and a sign of time passing more quickly than I had expected.

These quiet, meaningful moments have become more frequent as her language develops. Just recently, “chee-ohs” evolved into a clearly pronounced “cheer-ohs,” and I felt it deeply. To anyone else, it might have gone unnoticed — but to me, that one little “r” represented growth I wasn't ready for.

At the library last week, she pointed out a group of children and correctly labeled them: “kids.” She then turned to the crawling toddlers nearby and identified them as “babies.” Gone are the days of calling every child “baby” — and thankfully, the awkward apologies to six-year-olds have ended too. Still, I’m not ready to ask her which one she thinks she is. I’m not ready for her to say, “I’m a big kid.”

One of the hardest moments came when she casually called her father “Dad.” It didn’t stick — it was part of a playful back-and-forth that included “Daddio” — but for a second, I saw our future. A teenager rolling her eyes and saying, “Dad, stop embarrassing me.” It was just pretend this time, but it felt all too real.

These transitions — the tiny, constant evolutions — show up in her play too. She recently received her first LEGO set. I didn’t expect to be dodging those tiny bricks underfoot so soon. I thought we had more time. But she’s ready. She’s eager to build.

I’m slowly learning to catch up with her growth. I know the days are coming when her sweaters won’t have animal ears, and her grapes won’t need to be cut in half. Funny enough, I used to dread chopping grapes, but once she arrived, it simply became part of our everyday rhythm.

So I’m learning to honor these little moments, whether I embrace them with joy or acknowledge them with quiet reluctance. It’s hard to watch the baby phase slip away. It moves far too fast. But with each of these “last firsts,” I get a clearer glimpse of who she’s becoming — and I couldn’t be more proud.

After breakfast, we went to the park. She held my hand as we crossed the street, then ran off to play, singing as she went. Later, she paused for a snack and generously shared her sliced apples with me. And in that moment, looking at her cheerful little face framed by those not-so-tiny pigtails, I realized something:

Maybe I don’t hate the big kid phase after all.