My children are still pretty teeny. At only nearly two and a half and 4 months, they don't really qualify as having aged much. And yet, as I gaze back through my memory, I am in a state of awe about the profundity of change that has taken place in their small accumulation of days.
Last week, I looked at a few old video snippets of my eldest. She was 18 months and I was newly pregnant with her little sister. She seemed little more than a baby. She could hardly talk at all - she was just my sweet little baby. Lately, it seems like she is transforming into a little girl. Her toddler behaviors are slowly giving way to kid behaviors.
Just in the last few days, I've had a few conversations with friends who have newborns. I realized that I don't have a newborn anymore. My little one is a baby, no longer an infant. At four months, the "fourth trimester" is behind us, only a foggy memory.
With both girls, I feel blessed by their current ages - I always seem to really enjoy the time I'm in with them. Don't get me wrong, I do long for certain phases, habits or stages to end. But there is something miraculous in each and every age.
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