[My apologies for missing a couple of regular blog posts last week. The boy has been going through another one of those periods where he wakes up yelling in the middle of the night and it’s played havoc with my schedule. Things seem to be evening off again now.]
Ten years or so from now when you’re likely to be reading these various posts and letters (or having them beamed directly into your brain or however you kids are accessing the internet by then), you’ll see me here today commenting on a couple of things you’re doing right now.
You’re growing up a bit too quickly now, ain’t ya?
I mean, come on… you’re just a bit over eight months old and you’re handling your own bottle and feeding yourself. You’re picking up little bits of solid food your mother puts on the highchair tray and feeding yourself. You’re holding onto the edge of the pak ‘n play and standing. You’re picking out your own toys from The Pile. You’re sitting up on your own and examining items with a suspicious intensity.
What’s next? Changing your own diaper?
Old dad is starting to feel a little unnecessary. Maybe redundant.
I see you examining the straps on the car seat. You’re planning your next move. I see you trying to figure out the TV remotes so that instead of watching what dad likes (Gravity Falls, Great British Bake-Off) you can watch what you like (Despicable Me and old Spencer Tracy films on TCM).
Your mother says you took a step or two the other day–granted while being held up. And you’re making progress crawling on your own. I can see in your big blue eyes that as soon as you can manage it, you’re going to be running all over the place.
All over the place.
And talking… you’re starting to get out a couple of words. I suspect you know more than you’re letting on. Again… suspicious.
I’m not saying you should stop growing up.
But dial it down a notch for your old man, eh?
Apparently this whole baby thing is just “a stage” and I get that, but let me enjoy it a little while longer before you head off to college, okay?
All my love,