Nostalgia is a word that brings to mind several different emotions. Those of you that have read some of my posts can see that most of them make you smile. They are about my children when they are little; anything from streaking to stealing raspberries.

The other day I was cleaning the outside of the cupboards and some woodwork going into the kitchen from the living room. I could just hear my little one saying, “measure me daddy, measure me daddy. I think I am getting bigger.”

His daddy would smile, get out the old fashioned yard stick and say, “ok, get over here and stand up straight.” The little back would almost arch trying to get as tall as he could. He would lean his head tight, tight so his dad wouldn’t make a mistake. Those marks of progress were made with pencil, name, and date to mark the height of my little one. This remained something that happened until their dad died. I can remember teenagers lining up to get measured.

My father started this tradition when my little ones were really little and they loved it. When I sold my parents home the marks of height were still right by the door and was just about the last thing I saw as I locked the door.

Nostalgic today, I miss my little kids, my parents, and most of all the simple traditions of raising my little ones. I never washed off those measurements, they were just too precious. Do any of you measure your little ones? If you do, be sure not to wipe off the marks!