As Ben gets closer to that first birthday, Joe and I are just astounded at how much he is changing. Suddenly, our baby isn't one at all. He has magically morphed into a little boy and is just so neat to behold.
He has gone through a lot of "firsts" lately. None of them are big, but they are there and remind me that he is growing all the time. Some of them are imposed by us, like his first happy meal, latte, and ice cream cone. (I'm pretty sure none of those were my idea.) Others are all him. He says "Da Da" for everything and has become very skilled at drinking from a cup. He can now move forwards in his walker and has figured out how to open the kitchen cabinets. Miraculously, he hasn't broken anything. I guess he is saving that for when he can walk.
And of course, there are the "firsts" that are imposed from outside sources. I picked him up from nursery to learn that he had drawn his first picture, a beetle. Nursery has also given him the gift of his first pinkeye and his first red bodily rash. (No, it isn't the chicken pox or the measles. He seems to be feeling better so we'll see.)
I'm learning the parenthood is bittersweet. My heart swelled with pride this morning when he learned to roll the ball to me. Yet, this afternoon, I got a little sad when I had to buy him big boy pajamas. I suspect the 60 years will feel much the same way.
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