There are days I look at Chet, so close to turning 5, and can’t believe he was once small enough to reside inside my belly.  I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic.  And then there are days, usually when we’re traveling and he’s loudly whining, “Carry me, Mommy!” just as we reach some steep climb that I feel more than nostalgic.  I feel desperate for days long past when I could strap his tiny butt into a Baby Bjorn and go.  Or you know, get his Dad to do it.

This photo of Chet is in Istanbul.  He’s happy as a clam, being carried around the city in that Baby Bjorn.  It’s a classic photo – and one used in an essay I wrote about the magic of traveling with a baby in Istanbul.  But these days, instead of being reminded of why I love to travel with kids, this photo makes me long for days when I wasn’t responsible for carrying a 35+ pound boy and his enormous backpack full of junk up any incline greater than 2 degrees.  And maybe more importantly, given how much has changed in just the past few years, it makes me wonder about what traveling with a surly 14-year-old Chet might be like…Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes.

February 25th, 2010 | by Kayt Sukel 2 comments