This is how I’m feeling this week.
We’re in the last 2 days of being “0” years old.
On Friday, we are 1.
As much as I feel as if he is a big boy, a grown up, an independent snot factory. He’s not.
He’s still a little guy who snuggles his big bird and cries when he can’t suck on his new straw sippy cup right.
He’s still a little man who finds joy in pushing buttons on the remote, chasing the dog, changing out his pacifier 10x, and eating crackers.
He’s still a little gent who can’t talk, can’t walk (not really), and has no concept of what a fork is actually for.
But he’s bigger than he was a year ago. And that’s all he wants to be right now.
‘Cept maybe a superhero, I’d bet he’d like to be that.