When Everett was a baby, it seemed like his clothes got tighter and smaller day by day until I would finally pack them up and put them away, pulling out the stash of the next size's clothes. This is not the case with Callum. I think he saves up all his growth spurt time and piles it into a few hours, or maaaybe a day. I can think of more than one occasion when I've looked at him and thought, "you are bigger than you were yesterday!" It's like he's one size, takes a nice long nap, wakes up and has grown two inches and two pounds. The most recent event occurred Thursday night as I had flopped him onto my belly to burp him during his bedtime nursing. With his head tucked under my chin, I realized that his feet were down at my thighs. And they so hadn't been the night before. That, and he was heavy. He's up at around 20 lbs now and boy can I tell when I have him perched on my hip because leaving him on the floor with his toys is apparently equated in his mind to abandoning him on a cold dark street in the middle of an unknown city.
Maybe it's that I'm more keenly aware that he is growing too fast, or maybe he grows at the speed of light. You never know... This horrible concept of my baby "growing" was only intensified yesterday when I was watching the tiniest, cutest little nearly 5 month old girl. She was just the cutest little peanut and couldn't have weighed 15lbs. I picked her up and nearly threw her to the ceiling. I'm so used to lugging these enormous 7-8 month olds all day (and the occasional nearly 3 year old who is half my size).
Since my almighty super mom powers apparently do not extend into the "restriction of growing up/getting bigger" field, I guess I just have to deal with this and make sure to snuggle and kiss every squishy baby cheek, downy baby hair, and rolly baby body while I have the chance. That, and whisper to my boys: "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." (Robert Munsch)
Everett is 2 years and 10 months, Callum is 7 months and 4 days
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