You know how when you live with someone, you don't really see physical changes in an obvious way? This is especially true when you have a pregnant wife. From flat stomach to giant baby bulb, you don't really see the change because there are roughly 280 tiny changes from one day to the next. It just kind of hits you when you look at photos at some later date.
Such is the case with a child. Simon is about three feet tall now. Doors are no challenge for him, and he can even climb on the spare bed. Stairs are no match for him either. This weekend, I spent a lot of time with him, particularly yesterday while Diana was gone. I was struck by how tall he is. We were lying on the floor of his room yesterday before nap (he likes to crawl up next to you and get right up in your grill), and I was just amazed that my little boy isn't that little anymore. In fact, I hope that he gets potty training before he can't realistically be on his changing table anymore. The kid is huge. This was further confirmed by the photos scrolling by on the computer screen saver.
It really is a bittersweet thing going on. I'm excited that he's becoming more self-sufficient, and that it won't be long before we can ride roller coasters together. On the other hand, he's not the tiny human I can football-hold. Heck, it's a challenge just to have him rock on my shoulder at this point.
It has been a very fast two years. The window for cuddles and playground slides is not huge, and I'm becoming increasingly aware of this. I've been fortunate enough to spend an enormous amount of time with him the last six months, compared to the six before that, and I don't take that for granted. Simon being 2 can be challenging for us, but a part of me wishes it would last longer.
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