Time marches on...

When I was home in Maine last weekend, I got to see my youngest brother, Grady again. It's incredible how much he's changed in the past few years...or months even. I was 11 when he was born on the first day of 5th grade, so to me he's always been the baby. Cute little baby freckles and big blue eyes and one of the best things that's happened to our family. Here he is at Christmas less than 4 years ago:

And then on vacation the following summer:

Don't they look happy?

This is him a few months ago at his 8th grade graduation with my mother:

He's grown, A LOT. Filled out quite a bit. His hair is all shaggy, his freckles are disappearing, his eyes aren't as big and bright. His voice is deep and cracks sometimes still. When he answers the phone I mistake him for my 20-year old brother even though I know he's not living there. His cute little kid demeanor and innocence has been replaced by that of a sarcastic, crazy teenage boy. What happened?

Don't get me wrong, I still love the kid to pieces. He's still my little brother. But what happened to the little kid I knew? The baby I brought in for show and tell in 5th grade? (Yes, I did this...mom helped, don't worry). Time moves too fast.