As I sit with anxious thoughts of my sweet sister going into labor during an ice storm, my little boy turns 8 months old.
My little boy.
I still can't believe it sometimes. He is joy everyday, even on his worst days. And even now when he is crying at 10:41pm. He is still my sunshine. He has grown so much. Eating sweet potatoes is his new thing. He doesn't ever care for me to put him down and I can't blame him. Despite being carried around by all of us, his legs are growing and working. I found him up on his hands and knees tonight. And while I am excited that he is growing and healthy, I'm not quite ready for him to be mobile. He can easily reach for his toys and get back to a sitting position. I am certain he calls me Mama and knows what he is saying. He loves the song Wheels on the Bus and all the hand motions that go with it. wow. 8 months. Where does the time go?
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