One of the things I get told over and over by people is that I am to cherish these moments while my son is an infant. It seems as if I talk to folks at any length of time - oh, this is such a good time, love every moment of it.
And I do... but... well. This time isn't the point.
I was at my parents' house a few days ago, and my mom had a picture of Victor from around 7 months ago, right after he was born, and seeing it, I was struck at how much he had grown. This didn't make me nostalgic... it made me pleased.
I mean, I loved my son 7 months ago... but now, he's much more active and responsive. We have our own little customs and games that we like to play (he likes to try to eat my arm while I change his diaper... I said it was a game, I didn't say it was chess). His personality is so much more developed; I know who he is and what he is like so much more.
But even this -- this isn't the point. Soon, he will talk. And then there will be even better communication. And he will grow in wisdom and stature. First there will be toddling, and then wiffle ball, then playing catch -- then even more.
We were made to grow. We were made to mature and develop. Parents have a job -- it's to guide their kids into adulthood -- where they are functioning, responsible adults. And that's what I'm eager for. It's something I've tended to think is what parents should be eager for...but hopefully the day will come when he doesn't *need* me anymore. And that will be a good day.
We were made to grow. This is a good thing.