And I'm not sure how or when that happened. But one day, boom, he's a kid. Not a baby. Wow. Life is strange. The changes in a child's first 2 years are so incredible to witness and also so bittersweet. Matt told me not to rush his babyhood, not to wish for him to crawl and walk. Enjoy the immobile baby. But somehow, he turned into this tiny human anyway.
Today, Matt was lying on a pillow that O wanted. He kept yanking it, yelling "purple" (I'm assuming purple is pillow, but I could be wrong.) He was finally so exasperated that he said "Fie, Sih, Eight!" I burst into laughter. How can you not love a baby that knows what he wants, even when it means threatening his father with counting?
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