When I look at my son — who is now 16 pounds of chubby glory, who is now rolling over (and getting stuck), who is now babbling instead of cooing, who is now holding his head up like he never had a floppy neck in the first place — I see time moving so fast.
So fast it’s flying by.
He’s four months old working on sitting up all by himself, growing inches at a time — though, to be fair, I have a cloth measuring stick and the doctor uses something from 1482 — and he’s learning about everything. Discovering his feet, putting his own binky back in his mouth, moving his lips like he’s talking because he sees me talking and shaking his toys to rattle — even if the toy in question does not rattle.
It’s fascinating to watch, and it’s going by far too quickly.
He’s outgrown pounds of clothing — from newborn sizes to three-month onesies and even some so-called six-month-sized baby shorts. (Putting his lamby jammies into forever storage didn’t break my heart or anything it’s fine.) He’s wearing size 3 diapers and nearly hangs off his bobby pillow while he’s eating.
New baby clothes are super fun, but he’s growing too fast.
I can’t keep up with this kid, but that could be because I’m sleep-deprived. His routine changes by an hour, and I’m off for a week. (The four-month sleep regression is real, and I’m real tired about it.)
Even waking up at 11 p.m., 2 a.m. and 6 a.m. almost every night, nights still go by the fastest.
Why don’t you slow down a little, kid? Let mommy catch up :)