I wanted to like this book. After all, it was a gift from my Mom. Love you Ma. Did not love this book. It felt like a very "poor, poor pitiful me" narrative. Your kids grow up and each milestone should be celebrated not looked upon with meloncholic glasses. Kingsbury paints a gloomy picture of those (should be) wonderful years whereby Mom is clinging to every single moment of a child's life terrified that it might be the last time her little one sleeps with his "blanky". It's a horrible lesson to teach your children. Cling to the past. Hold on to the memories. It sounds like a drippy Richard Marx song...not the sort of thing you want to pass along to your (you hope) ambitious, vibrant little spark plug. If Mom really feels so tormented about what childhood landmark might be passed next, it's probably time for some good counseling. Ummm. Dr. Phil, line 1.