If I've said it about any other stage, I was lying. 6 months is definitely my favorite age! I LOVE this baby. He is honestly the apple of my eye. I wish I could rewind the clock and start this whole past half year over again, just so I could soak up every square inch of this fluffy little guy.
I could spend my days sitting and watching him discover the mysterious new toy he's been handed. Or watch him as he rolls repeatedly under the couch, then cry because he can't get out from behind the leg. I could tickle his back and make him squeal with laughter all day long. He moved in with Henry months ago and I think both boys are pleased as punch with their new roommate situation. I can hear Henry talking to him in the morning and William cooing as he looks over at him through the crib slates. He has started eating rice cereal and is a wonder when it comes to keeping that mush in his mouth. The cleanest, neatest little eater we've ever had.
I truly wish this first 6 months would last another year. I know soon enough all those big milestones will be reached and he'll be off and running and yelling with the rest of them. It breaks my heart. I love newborns. Despite my vigilant effort to enjoy and memorize every waking second of my babies, I still find myself nostalgic for those first few months of their life. It's a time so precious and special and it goes by in a blink of an eye. I find myself pleading and whispering to William on a daily basis, "Please don't get big. Please don't get big." If I found a genie in a bottle, I know what my one wish would be.
