Sixteen Months

Last night I let my lips linger on the mess of blonde waving wildly atop his head, inhaling his scent, complete with high notes of baby bath, as I kissed.  As if it would keep him this size that molds into my lap just so, forever.  It didn’t take long before he gave in and his body fell heavy into the crook of my left arm, while his fingers wound tight around my right arm grew limp.  I didn’t want to move.  I didn’t want to lay him down.  For one, his sleeping this past week has been erratic, waking at midnight for a COUPLE OF HOURS.  Yes, a couple of hours awake in the middle of the night always deserves capitals.

But that’s not the only reason I wanted to hold on tighter, longer.  I think that the older and more independent he gets, the more these moments of deep, satisfied breaths in my arms as dreamland takes over remind me of the six pound newborn that relied on my touch for comfort and satisfaction.

As much as I get excited about his baby steps that have become a constant running pitter-patter through the halls, or his ever growing vocabulary, there will always be a part of me that misses the scrunch faced stare downs from my newborn, squishy baby rolls and sweet milky breath.

But he’s growing, and it’s beautiful.

You can read through the whole series, including the first year’s month-by-month here.

I’ll announce the winner for the $25 shopping spree to My Baby Clothes tomorrow, so get in it today while you’ve got the chance.

Happy almost weekend everyone!