My dad stood Westley up against the wall today, put a book on his head to use as a level, and drew a line in pencil. It turns out that "Westley 1-28-09" is a good five or six inches taller than "Westley 7-8-08."
It's not just his height that has changed, of course. Everything about Westley is just so different now. He talks. He toddles. He goes into his room on his own and looks at books by himself. Just a few months ago, it took more than an hour to soothe him to the point that he could fall asleep. Now, it's only a few minutes before he asks to be put in his crib at night. I don't really remember when any of this happened. If I sit and think about it (or look through my archives), I start to remember the changes as they happened. Small things at first, which turn into developmental milestones. But on a day-to-day basis, it feels like someone just flipped a switch: at first, there was this little baby, and now a little over a year later, here we are!
It's not just his height that has changed, of course. Everything about Westley is just so different now. He talks. He toddles. He goes into his room on his own and looks at books by himself. Just a few months ago, it took more than an hour to soothe him to the point that he could fall asleep. Now, it's only a few minutes before he asks to be put in his crib at night. I don't really remember when any of this happened. If I sit and think about it (or look through my archives), I start to remember the changes as they happened. Small things at first, which turn into developmental milestones. But on a day-to-day basis, it feels like someone just flipped a switch: at first, there was this little baby, and now a little over a year later, here we are!
There are also the occasional moments when it's like the switch gets flipped back again, but only in my brain. I suddenly forget, or fail to notice how much has changed. Yesterday I caught myself nursing Westley in this somewhat awkward position I used to use when he was tiny and didn't understand that whole breastfeeding thing yet. My arms were starting to ache a little before I realized that I don't have to cradle him so securely or squeeze my breast into a "nipple sandwich" for him anymore. He's an old pro. I still refer to him as "the baby" all the time, but he's really "the boy" these days.
Sometimes I need a pencil mark to remind me.
Such a serious boy.
