Sometimes I miss having little ones. I mean, obviously my kids are still little-ish, but not so much anymore. I catch myself at times referring to them as "little" and then I realize they are more medium. And occasionally I miss the truly little. The tiny socks and learning to eat finger foods and peek-a-boo.
But then I remember how nice it is to have kids old enough to play a killer hand of gin rummy, and to help (in a real sense of the word) make cookies - weighing flour and butter and rolling balls of dough to the right size, and old enough to know that sleeping kitties should be left to sleep.
Just for the record, Evelyn beat me on that hand with no help what-so-ever.