I love my child. No, seriously. I love him a lot. Like more than anything in the world ever.
Even though he was unexpected and he's sort of a pain in the butt about 30% of the time, he is the very best. He's my most favorite ever.
I'm so excited watching him grow. I know a "Mama" is coming soon, even though he insists on calling me "Dada" right now (who needs gender constructs, anyways...). He's going to be walking soon. His growing cognizance makes me so excited! My Da-Sein-in-training! I think I'm most anticipating his ability to make decisions. I don't care how little they are... whether he wants prunes or pears with his yoghurt... or his Bob Marley shirt or his Paul Frank hoodie... I can't wait for his stories and jokes and reasonings. I know he's going to be hilarious (Of course! He's learning from the best...). I don't want to rush him into being, but I very seriously look forward to it.
I love where he's at now. Aware. Not yet autonomous, but aware. Aware of his surroundings. Aware of who surrounds him. Aware of his preferences.
It seems like such a short time ago that I was complaining that I was "so ready for this baby to be out!" It's really gone too quickly. I'm cherishing every moment I spend with my little guy. Savoring it. He no longer smells like a sweet infant, full of my milk, pooping soft yellow pudding that smelled like apples, yoghurt, and yeast. He smells like a little boy - dirty (although not unclean), sweet but not soft. His poop smells awful. He eats now... not just from me, but a little bit of everything.
He has started giving me kisses. I ask him nicely, "Niko, give Mama a kiss," and he opens his mouth a blows a raspberry on my cheek. They are the sweetest kisses ever. I love my baby. So much...
Panda 1 & Panda 2
Love is where you find it. I think it is foolish to go looking for it, and I think it can often be poisonous. - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.
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