My little man turned two years old today.
How this happened is beyond me. Because about eight seconds ago, he was >>this<< big. I could hold in him one hand. He slept in a bassinet beside my bed, when he wasn’t snuggled right up next to me nursing. I carried him everywhere, and it was like carrying thistle-down.
He was this.
It’s gone so fast.
He’s traded in his sleep-n-play rompers for button-down shirts and blue jeans; rubber-bottomed socks have become miniature Nike’s; fireman-crawling across the playroom rug has become running full-tilt through the house.
My baby is a toddler. He is becoming more and more complex every day.
Funny – ever since I became a parent, it’s like the planet has sped up. Days go by in a blur; weeks and months and years shoot past. I see my children growing before my eyes.
On the one hand, I want to wrap them up in my arms and not let them grow any more. I want to protect their childhood, to lengthen it, to let them have as many hours as I can of this time. This time when things are simple, when the rules are clear, when mommy and daddy can fix anything in the whole world.
On the other, I can’t wait to see what they’re going to become. I look at Captain Adventure and I see a complex little person. Smart, adventurous (as long as Mommy’s around), sweet, funny, sensitive, stubborn, creative…I can’t wait to meet the man he will become.
Although I suspect, even if he develops a baritone voice and a mountain man’s beard, I’ll still hear his infant laughter and remember the butterfly-wing feel of his infant head against my lips.
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