I'm just not ready to move on because I know this is just the first of many moments where I'll feel left behind in her childhood as she moves on toward all her future holds. For Sam it will be moving on to slumber parties, movies with friends, secret journals, boyfriends, a driver's license, graduations, and a grown-up life. For me it will be her moving on from sitting in my lap, from holding my face in her small hands and saying, "I love you, I love you, I love you, Mommy!", from begging me for one more story, from insisting that I help her pick out her clothes, from snuggling in bed with me until Dad comes in, and from seeing me as her everything.
I know she's supposed to grow-up and, believe me, there are plenty of days I wish it would happen sooner rather than later, but it doesn't mean it won't kill me when she decides she's too big for barbie dolls.
Yes, Sam is moving on, but she will never move on from being my baby, princess gown or no princess gown. And I will never move on from telling her, "I love you, I love you, I love you, Samantha."
I'll let you move on, but I will never let you go.