First things first, I am a sucker for my baby in a tank. Something about those perfectly smooth bare baby biceps. Second, this pose. We took theses photos to document him turning 11 months and they make me smile. And also laugh a little. He sat like this all on his own and stayed in this pose for a few minutes just smiling for me. I look at these and see an innocent and loving soul. Just so so pure. And one that I love more than I'll ever understand.
So when did he get so big? I know this whole post is going to be one huge cliche', but oh well. The thing is, I have always enjoyed watching Wesley grow. I loved the newborn phase, but for some reason I was always happy to see him get bigger and develop. I made a point to always celebrate where we were at and not be sad that he was growing. I don't look at the first year and wonder where it went because the days have been long. (in the best of ways) It's filled to the brim with moments and memories. But in the last month or so I have been having a really hard time accepting it. As his first birthday approaches us, I want to hit the brakes. Hold on, just for a minute. I used to feel like this often as a child when summer would end or it was time to leave a fun filled family vacation. That pit-in-the-stomach feeling of loving a time so much you simply don't want it to end. To lock it away in your heart forever. This age is just so incredible and I'm resistant to time fleeing like this. I know that toddler-hood will bring it's own set of joyful memories, but I don't feel ready yet.
So this is my sap post about not wanting him to grow. I'll leave it here so I can be excited when he transitions from baby to toddler. But I wanted to document my feelings because it's been heavy on me for a little while now. Also, if any of you have a secret for stopping time, I'd love to hear about it.