One Year, Somehow
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