The other day, I called my son my "pumpkin", after which he looked at me and declared, quite adamantly, "I am not a pumpkin. I am a big boy." So I apologised and made one of those "notes to self" that he is indeed growing up and I might just have to control those Mummy-isms. But deep down, I rationalised that although he's putting a stop to my "baby" names, he will always be my baby. And then I took the photo below.
There he is, with one of his Aunties, after a kite-flying jaunt in the Savannah. He'd had enough, decided he wanted to get a coconut water, and just took off, leaving me fiddling with the camera and his dad fiddling with the kite. He never even looked back to check on us. Which kind of made me smile and sigh at the same time.