Sonny boy has been cruising around holding furniture for over three months. I thought walking was imminent, but it's pretty clear for the time being that he would rather not. Why walk when you can crawl like the dickens?
I suppose it's like when you learn to type properly; at first, you prefer your old chicken-peck method because it's still faster.
Click to Enlarge
(Note that I haven't been in any hurry. When he does walk, I'm sure he'll do it plenty. )
OMG, my baby boy is a year old. Already. And I'm such a sap about it.
It really does seem like yesterday that I was holding my tiny swaddled newborn, who was reminiscent of a foot-long sub with spiky dark hair. Now he's babbling, pointing and almost walking, and has figured out a lot of the world since last March.
Just recently, I was reminded of just how much he's changed when I went to see my good friend's newborn baby boy at the hospital. The newborn was all tiny and floppy, and my son was positively enormous next to him. He'd turned into a kid when I wasn't looking.
People remind me all the time of how fast these years go. While waiting for an appointment, I recently met a woman who told me how it seemed so recently that her own son, now a giant, shaggy-haired teenager hunched over his iPhone, was as small as mine.
Ack! Don't remind me. I already can't handle seeing my old Grade 1 students serving me at restaurants when I go back home.
Of course I wouldn't wish for him to be a baby forever. I'd never know what he had to say, what kind of sense of humour he had, or what he'd come to be interested in. We wouldn't get to go on family trips, take him camping or teach him board games.
Plus, that'd be a lot of diapers.
Still, though, I don't want my little boy to grow up too fast. If the past year was any indication of how fast it goes, I have a feeling I'll blink and he'll be starting school, and when I wake up tomorrow he'll be asking me to borrow the car.
Last spring, I happened to catch Rob Lowe on Oprah, talking about how close he is to his teenaged sons, and how he recognizes they won't live in his house forever. He said, welling up with tears, "that's what it's like; they're yours, and then they're the world's." I got all teared up myself upon hearing that.
Okay, it was perhaps a little premature to get emotional, as my son was at most two months old at the time. Get a grip.
On my part, that's to be expected, though. Even before I had a kid, I couldn't read the children's book Love You Forever by Robert Munsch without welling up (although, can anyone?). A close friend gave me that book when I was first expecting, and I'm glad she gave me the French version. That way, my husband can be in charge of reading it to our son and I don't have to blubber my way through it.
I already look back at Sonny's newborn clothes or pictures from only a year ago with wistful nostalgia. We all spend such a short time as babies, and even kids.
Of course not every day is smooth sailing, but I'm trying to savour each stage while I have the chance. I'm giving him lots of hugs, taking lots of pictures and drawing lots of cartoons so I can remember when he only had two teeth, when was small enough to lift in the air, or when he'd hold up one Cheerio triumphantly in each hand before eating them, like he'd never been so proud of himself.
I do look forward to what's next in his journey. As all parents do, I wonder if he'll be adventurous or mellow, if he'll be a man of few words or if he'll talk my ear off. Maybe he'll like to draw, like his mom. At any rate, he'll be a big lug with giant sneakers before I know it. I just I hope he's a kind, contented and hard-working big lug. I'll be as proud of him as ever.
"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, As long as I'm living, My baby you'll be." - Love You Forever (Robert Munsch)