Six months? Stop it. Where does the time go? It seems like just yesterday we did
this post,
this post, and
this post. I want to freeze my baby in time. Sometimes when I look at him, I am totally and completely consumed by this feeling of panic knowing he won't always stay this size. Six months is my favorite. I am obsessed. I can't imagine anything else being as fun as him. Wren and I just stare at him marveling at how perfect he is (I'm sure every parent feels this way though, right?) He has the sweetest little spirit and we feel this overwhelming sense of "niceness" radiate from him. Though having a child makes the future appear so bright, it also carries with it this large amount of uncertainty and responsibility. Will my baby grow up and be kind? Will he play with someone at recess who sits alone? Will he speak nicely of others? Will he serve others? Will he respect Wren and I? I realize he is only six months old and I'm getting
way ahead of myself, but getting ahead of myself is my best talent, so just roll with me will you?
In all seriousness, will we be able to teach him all of these things? It's on us, and as neat as that is, it scares me! Why can't he just stay six months forever?
Radcliff, honey, mommy loves you very much. Don't kill us in your teenage years k?
