Wait until they're teenagers

Twice in the past week, I've been told by two separate people, "just wait until they're teenagers."  Whenever I lament about the terrible twos, inevitably, someone pipes up that the threes are much worse.  This time, it was the teens.  And that got me thinking.  I get all huffy when Everett's begging for another bedtime hug and kiss and Callum just cannot be in his chair/swing/tummy/back without human contact, but these days are not going to last forever.  Right now, many of our "problems" are solved with a long snuggle and talk about what the day's plans are for tomorrow or just a picking up and letting breastmilk breath and drool drip all over my cheek.  How great is that?  Currently, if my boys are tired, they don't stalk off to their rooms and slam their doors, yelling at me to leave them alone; they climb (or cry for me to pick them up) into my lap, bury their heads in my neck and sigh.  They plead for me to read them stories, change their diapers/clothes, get them food, play with them, and just snuggle.  Every night I go to bed with one guy in my bed and every morning I wake up with a baby boy on either side of me and that guy squished over on the other side of the bed (we should have bought a king...).  I breathe a sigh of relief as I see Everett playing independently more and more, but I also have to take a step back and mourn a little for his younger days.  Days when he only said a few words and not these hilarious sentences he spews out now.  Days when I had to carry him everywhere and he didn't yet ride his bike and run.  Days when I would carefully change his adorable little outfits and not cringe a little at his self-picked and applied ensembles.  And it gets worse.  Because I can look at Callum in all his chubby baby glory and know that he will all too soon be 2 years old and dressing himself while asking "why" about everything.  And after that will come even more independence and limit pushing, talking back and questioning, moodiness and wanting their space.  But right now, there's a two and a half year old climbing all over me talking about buying new shorts at wal-mart, asking me to read a story, and trying to convince me he needs more orange juice (all at the same time!) and there's a baby putting himself to sleep in his pack n' play across the room.  And I love it.