Here's a fake conversation that never happened, about a real girl that Alex and I knew when we were studying abroad in China: Hey who is that pretty blonde girl you were talking to? Oh her? That's Belgin. You don't even know her name, you just call her the Belgian? No, not The Belgian, Belgin. What's the difference? Her name is Belgin. Ok what's her Beglian name then? I am telling you her name is literally Belgin. The Belgian girl's name is Belgin? That's wild. That's like if your name was Polish. My name is Polish. And she's not Belgian she's from Holland. No like if you were named Polish. Wait what? Belgin Is is from Holland. Jesus christ ok a girl from Holland named Belgin. Fine. What's her last name then? I told you, Is. I assume it's Dutch. This girl's name is Belgin Dutch? No, Is. So it is Dutch? Well I assume so. You assume that because she's from the Netherlands her last name is Dutch? I think that's a fair assumption ...
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 ...
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