Back then I couldn’t wait until he was old enough to tag along and do stuff. I'm the type of person that can never enjoy a moment because I'm thinking about what's next. But with this, I can wait. This is painfully different. I’m not ready for these rapid changes. It's fun and all, but there's no rewind button. I'll never have today back, only the memory.
And that's what's crazy about this parenting thing. Every day there’s something new. A sound or a gesture. He understands so much. He plays by himself, his little brain computing and organizing in it’s own little way. He runs, he laughs, and he sleeps. He’s so much fun to be around, uh, for the most part. Don't get me wrong, it's not all roses, this dude can throw an epic fit.
But that's okay, it's all age appropriate, as my wife says. Unlike my love of Cocoa Puffs which is apparently not age appropriate.
Another age appropriate change is how he's now noticing everything around him. The other night he clung to me when it was bath time. He clung to me, his thumb stuck firmly in his mouth. It's what my wife has dubbed, a huggle. A huggle is part hug, part snuggle, or a mini cuddle that usually comes in handy after a fall or bump—just enough to get him through the moment and then he’s off, back at it again. It sucks that huggles are age appropriate for him and not me, right? Dad, next time I see you, you're getting a damn huggle.
But back to my kid in the window. When he saw me and his face lit up, especially when he also noticed that Mom was right behind me. Then it was nearly too much for him to handle. He placed a chubby wrist on the floor, propped himself up, and made a dash for the door in an overloaded state of euphoria. Inside, I scooped him up, squeezing and him tight while kissing his chubby cheeks. That moment was great. He was so happy and little and perfect. Now if time will just slow down a little bit, everything will be alright.