I sat with my baby boy last night, rocking him while he had his bedtime milk.
As he sipped his milk in his tired state, I took a few minutes to look him over as I held him close. I noticed his hair was coming in thicker…he was no longer my bald little baby. I noticed his hands were getting bigger. He still has those chubby dimpled fingers, but as I stroked the back of his hand it just looked like it had grown.
I became conscious of how he fit differently against my body. He was so long that his legs didn’t fit across my lap anymore. He felt more sturdy, more solid, more, well, like a little boy. I suddenly felt like I was holding not a baby, but a little boy.
I thought about the last time he had his milk in a bottle; it had been a couple of months. I thought about the last time he had a midnight feeding, with myself or my husband holding him with heavy lids and in a dazed state. It had been so long, that although I was grateful we were getting more sleep, I missed it.
These days are going by so fast, it’s true what they say – that your second child seems to grow so much faster than your first. I feel like I’ve blinked and he’s 14 months old. And as I sat here holding him, rocking him, getting him ready for bed – I became aware that he’s not a baby anymore. He’s an official toddler, and I can see the boyhood emerging before my eyes.