I had a look through Dylan’s “old” clothes the other day. The size of this onesie made me laugh. He is eight months old today and right now he’s walking around with his push-trolley talking to Stella who’s doing her best to keep out of the way and not get run over. I am still nursing him and actually dreading the day that stops, which is funny because in the beginning I felt so trapped by it. Now it is this quiet moment – the only one – when he is calm and still. He goes by the name Terminator because he’s more bulldozer than toddler. I like to think this is payback since I also was a handful for my parents too. But I really would not like him to be any different. To see myself in him is so weird and thrilling. Being a parent really is a blessing – even if some moments are tiresome you never think it is not worth it.
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