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Yesterday, I got it into my head to bake Morning Glory Muffins. You remember these? They were all the rage in the 90’s. It seems like they’ve fallen out of fashion—or maybe it’s just where I live, but I don’t see them in bakeries quite as often as back in the day.

So two trips to the grocery store (there are a LOT of ingredients to forget!), several near misses during the mixing process (there are a LOT of ingredients to remember!), and one half empty can of crushed pineapple splattered across the floor and behind the refrigerator later (Sticky!) we ate some Morning Glory. Remarkably, it was still morning.

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Speaking of eating. This child, this child won’t stop. He’s always hungry and I can’t keep up with his food demands. Where is he putting it all? Evidently, in inches UP! I just ordered jeans for the third time this year. Three sizes in 10 months, he’s now wearing a 14 slim and is showing no sign of slowing down.

It’s not just his jeans, though. I also got the shock of my life when trying to buy shoes for him to wear to the wedding (OMG!! two weeks, MARIE, are you freaking out??). Scrounging around in the kid’s department, we were striking out when it occurred to me if his jean size has exponentially grown, perhaps his feet were following suit.

Can we say heart-attack? This child wears a men’s 7. And that means, he has the same sized feet as me. He’s 11 and has already out-paced me. He’s running hard to catch up with his father. I don’t think he’s going to need the assist from age and gravity.

It’s a battle of wills, really. I keep willing him to slow down. But suggesting this to him gets no traction. He just looks at me with that twinkle in his eye—the same twinkle, for the record, that won me over when his father proposed—that screams, “Make me, lady!”

Give me back that muffin, kid!

I probably don’t have to tell you that I’m so not ready for this. It’s a glory to behold. Or it would be, if I could step back to watch it.