Impatient

I think I have said this before, but I will say it again...you know, because it's my blog and no one reads it anyway. I really feel like Spencer is impatient to grow up. For the majority of his waking hours, he genuinely seems distressed that he can't be up and around and on the move like the girls. (Perhaps this is because he wants to be on the move from the girls.) He doesn't like to sit still, hates to lay flat (as evidenced by the crunches he does in a desperate effort to sit up every time I lay him down) and is perpetually leaning forward when I hold him facing out, as if he could go somewhere if he could just get the momentum to get started. (It is becoming near impossible to hold him facing in anymore because he spends the whole time craning his neck and body to turn around and then almost twists himself out of my arms.)

This might all be well and good, except for one thing: I am not impatient for him to grow up. I am still in the process of savoring every aspect of his babyness, from his crinkly smiles to his roly poly legs, to his sweet, fuzzy little head. I am not ready to even entertain the idea that that smile, those legs, and that head will soon be running from me in the other direction. Because even though he is already four months old (today!) and I know in my heart that he has to grow up even more, that doesn't mean that I wouldn't use the heck out of the pause button if I could get my hands on that elusive Remote Control of Life.

I mean, sheesh, would you look at this grown up boy?