What to call those moments in between milestones, that feel like milestones, but aren't necessarily happy occasions? Minute stones? Well, I unexpectedly had one of these the other day when attempting to pass on my son's stroller. It's a Phil & Ted double stroller. (You know, the one that cost nearly $700) The one we had gotten upon the arrival of our second child. The one that helped me lull both my children to sleep on so many slushy, winter evening walks. This stroller has seen the many water playgrounds all around the city. We even held on to it for an extra six months just in case my son would use it again. Then came the day when we realized it was just taking up space in our living room, and so we set out to rid ourselves of it. When I examined its condition, however, I realized that all it had been through showed all too well and it was hardly worthy as a hand-me down. So, I found a consignment shop in Queens - the one in Brooklyn was too fancy for our used and dirty stroller - loaded it into our truck and took off o Queens. When I arrived at the shop, the clerk was on the phone. I looked around while waiting. After a few minutes, she told her friend to hold and said, "Can I help you?" I described the condition of the stroller and she quickly said she wasn't interested. Apparently, they are as picky in Queens as they are in Brooklyn! My husband recommended that I leave it where someone would most certainly take it... in front of a house in Rego Park perhaps? So, that's what I did. At this point I was rushing (running around for my son's upcoming 5th birthday party) and barely had time to get the stroller out of the car, not to mention take a picture of it to document the moment. And then it came over me, a feeling of loss, a realization that this precious period of mothering sweet childhood was officially over. This feeling swept over me as I abandoned my son's stroller with the hope that someone else would find use of this tattered piece of equipment.