Not yet, please

Stop it, Ruby!  Stop being so silly, and wiggly, and stop growing so tall.  I was carrying you today.  You wrapped your long legs around my waist and your long arms around my shoulders.  You weigh 2/3 of what I do...and I can't bear to think of the day (maybe within a couple years) that you'll outweigh me.  How will I carry you, my baby girl?
And stop getting older.  Did you know that in just four weeks, we'll be laying out your first-day-of-school clothes, and I'll tuck the blanket up under your chin and I'll kiss your soft lips, and I'll sit on the floor next to your bed and sing until you fall asleep.  And then you'll wake up and be a first-grader.  Quick!  We've got just four weeks to hurry up and figure out how to freeze time.  I can't bear to think of that day, when you'll be away from me more waking hours of the day then you'll be with me.  How will I watch over you, my baby girl?
So, not yet, Ruby.  Momma's not ready.  Just stop it.