Month 20: All Grown Up

It's true - he's practically grown up. Every day I find myself wondering where my baby went.

I also find myself clinging to some of the rituals and traditions that he probably should have outgrown by now in a vain attempt to stop the hands of the clock. (For example, his nightly sippy cup of warm milk on my lap while we read and sing and cuddle). But I don't care - I'm holding on to this as long as he'll let me.

He now eats a piece of pizza by himself - I don't have to cut it into pieces. (In fact, he won't eat it if I help too much). Same with a sandwich. He doesn't need lids on his cups anymore, and he goes down the big boy slides at the park alone. Heck - he runs up the playground stairs alone too. He gets things from the pantry or fridge if I ask him to, and he climbs into the van on his own. His vocabulary is large enough for him to make specific requests, ask questions, and answer our questions. He's extremely logical and understands sequential instruction.

One of our good friends is expecting the birth of her second child at any moment. Yesterday, someone told her to brace herself for one of the biggest shocks of having a second baby: The moment your first born walks into the hospital room and you realize just how grown up they really are. There's something in me that simply isn't willing to admit that Daniel isn't a baby anymore.

Fernando and I still sneak into his room every night to turn the fan and the lamp off before we head to bed. And every night, we gaze into the crib (which he's too big for!) and wonder where the time went. Our whispered conversation is the same each night...

Me: "Honey, he's huge."
Fernando: "I know... he takes up the whole crib!"
Me: "He used to be so tiny."
Fernando: "His head is enormous!"
Me: "What happened to our baby!?"
Fernando: "I don't want him to grow up anymore. I wish time would stop."
Me: "Me too."

It's the paradox of life, that it goes by the fastest just when you wish it wouldn't.