From the floor of the kitchen, The Kid sits there smiling like he’s been sitting up on his own for his whole little life. SITTING UP?! I marvel at how it seems like over night […]
From the floor of the kitchen, The Kid sits there smiling like he’s been sitting up on his own for his whole little life. SITTING UP?! I marvel at how it seems like over night his balance has caught up with him. Sure, there have been many weeks filled with those tiny stomach crunches that he was so fond of doing. I just thought maybe he was showing off how in shape his core was. I expected to change his diaper only to marvel at his itsy-bisty six pack. (These post-pregnancy days, I can barely do one sit-up. And if I do get my one in a day, I just want to take a nap right afterwards.)
It’s crazy, but I get more warning when a new Peter Jackson movie is about to open than when my son is going to achieve some sort of milestone. (The Hobbit 2 opens in a week!) I’m always a little taken aback when it actually goes down—the milestone, not Mr. Jackson’s movie. Sure, there are little warning signs that something momentous is about to happen in The Kid’s life, but I’m always under the delusion that it is going to take a little more time than it does. Like turning around to see my six-month-old sitting up smiling at me. SITTING UP!? What’s next? His rehearsal dinner?!
It’s hard to wrap my brain around all the firsts without getting a little overwhelmed. Like with a good Peter Jackson movie, I want to savor every second. Even on minimal amounts of sleep (still), I’m trying my best to take it all in. I know these firsts will speed by, and suddenly we will be talking about first steps, and first words, and first dates. I’m trying my best not to sleep-walk through all these first and to tune out the sleepy dialogue in my head that goes something like: Does he look tired? When is his next nap? Boy, am I tired. Does he look tired? When is his next nap? When does The Hobbit officially open?
The firsts are firsts for a reason—they will never come again. So, I will drink my caffeine and watch in awe and wonder.
Luckily, I can probably sleep through his rehearsal dinner—when he’s 50.