I get it. I have three kids of my own (all under the age of 7). I know that one day you are holding your babies and the next they are headed off to kindergarten. I dry tears, wipe noses and give long hugs, trying to hold on to my babies while simultaneously setting them free. I want to remember every moment. Especially the chaotic ones … like the mornings they rush out the door with their shoelaces dragging, hair flying every which way and backpacks trailing behind. Because this is what my life is like. And when I am older (much older) I want to remember all the little things. After all, it’s the little things that make life big.