Baby Girl turned one-year-old the other day. I know all the "time flies" stuff has been tread and re-tread by parents for generations, but man, I cannot believe how quickly that went. And somehow I have, like, three memories of the first year of her life? Even worse, one of the few memories I do have is complaining about how time was creeping by. I think the year can mostly be summed up as thus: waiting for the girl to do something new, enjoying it for a day, remarking about how I can't wait for the next milestone. Having a one-year old has so far taught me a few things. First, infants are just still really not my deal. I loved mine, and I want to have more, but the older she gets, the more I feel actually connected to as a person. I know I've said it before: I have loved her from the moment she was born, but I am learning to actually enjoy her company as she learns to do more and more cool shit. Learning to sit up, roll over, smile, laugh, all of that was ...
Comments
Post a Comment