I'm almost in tears, we are moving house soon, and have begun clearing the hot press. I am pressing my face into his cute little clothes and breathing in the smell before I ruthlessly divide into a 'go pile' and 'stay' one. I'd hoped by now someone else (as in a new sibling) would be wearing them, but it's proving more of a challenge than we thought. And I can't justify the space the clothes are taking over, so it's charity shop time! But as I am sorting, I remember each little outfit, each wooly hat, chubby legs in shorts on holidays, hugs in each babygrow and steps in little shoes. My ds is getting bigger so quickly. I usually look forward and enjoy watching him grow, but tonight I'm thinking wistfully of baby times. Does this job tug at everyones heart strings or am I being a hormonal sap?!