Yesterday he was pretending to eat his wooden trains and then poop them out, complete with fart sounds. I died laughing. My child = comedy genius!
But the melancholy is real too. How was he still inside my fat stomach, sharing mint chocolate chip ice cream with me just 2 years ago? How was he a sweet little glob of butterball goo, just barely crawling, 1 year ago? I feel like I'm going to turn around and he'll be off to prom or offering to buy me a drink at the [insert cool band name] show (because yes in 19+ years Otto is going to think I'm so cool he'll want to go to all the cool shows with me and buy me drinks).
Is time going to keep flying like this? Or does it slow down as they get older? I want to put my fingers together like Evie on "Out of This World" and just freeze here for a little while. Just freeze him and hold him and stare at him and preserve each second because he changes and grows so much every single day. ::sigh::
But I really am happy.
-Lindsey
