Time sure flies! Our little guy is now seven months old. It's staggering. He was this tiny little creature that you could hold in one hand (with a forearm), and all he really did was eat, sleep, poop and cry when he wanted to do one of the first three. Now he has personality, he laughs, and he very much knows us. It's wild.
The physical development is coming along as expected. What's more interesting, and harder, is that the psychological development is coming along now too. For example, he demonstrates a very distinct difference between crying because he needs something and crying because he wants something. The latter is usually accompanied by a dramatic shriek. Already he's starting to test boundaries, and that's crazy.
It's been a great adventure so far, and I think the thing that makes me most happy about how things are going is that we tend to make him a part of most everything. Like I said the other day, aside from going to movies, he's pretty much in on everything we do. He's seven months old, and he has been in six states, and eight by next week.
His sleep routine is a mess right now, but he seems to be moving toward (with some setbacks) longer continuous sleep periods. And it's a little selfish, but with his pre-midnight feedings, I love those sleepy moments after he eats when he cuddles up on my shoulder. There is nothing like in the world like it.
All things considered, we haven't had any gigantic challenges with Simon yet, though the little things can kind of stack up and be exhausting at times. It's worth it though. I can't tell you how many times we stand there looking at him, and think, holy crap we made him from our genetic filth. That's pretty amazing.
The key phrase of this entry is "genetic filth."
Seriously, I am with you 100%. I look at our boys and am reminded every single day about what a miracle looks like. Even when I'm elbow deep in puke or poop or tears, I wouldn't trade it for one second.
Amazing. Amazing. Amazing.