Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Owen at 7 months

Son, you are growing too fast. I wish I could stop time and hold you here for a little longer. In the past few days you are starting to get up on your hands and knees and I fear crawling is just around the corner. You prefer to scoot with your head on the ground using your feet to propel you forward. You'll settle for rolling if you think it will get you to your destination faster.

It is amazing how much you have learned in the last couple of weeks. You are incredibly spoiled but there are so many people to blame. You crack yourself up by making noises and grabbing ahold of the poor cat.

You fight sleep like a champ. I had always heard the term "fighting sleep" before but son, you give it a new meaning. I don't have the heart to let you cry it out no matter what the books say. So every night since you were born, you have fallen asleep on my chest or on my lap. I figure there is plenty of time to fall asleep by yourself. When you finally decide it might be time to go to bed you close your eyes and quietly cry. When that gets boring you hum to keep yourself awake. In between that, and the tadpole-like kicking, it's a wonder you ever settle down for the night.

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