You blink and then they’re five

My baby is nine months old today. I held him up to the mirror today and I realize that more and more, he’s becoming his own person. No longer is he a blob who cries, eats, gets his diaper changed, and sleeps.

No, he tries to eat electrical cords. He can remove a metal spring doorstop and will attempt to teethe upon it. He’s fascinated with shoelaces and can crawl across the room in a microsecond. Today he tried stairs. It didn’t go very well, but thankfully it was only one tread and I caught him.

So I’m waxing nostalgic, but doesn’t it seem that you do this for your children all the time? You step back, let them attempt to spread their wings even when they can be hurt, and you catch them when they fall. You laugh with them when they find bubbles hilarious, and you hold them tight when they cry.

He’s my last baby. And even though I’ll love the convenience of him being a child, I’m going to miss these days.