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This morning Potamus and I woke up in remarkably good moods, inspite of the fact that it’s on-call day which always makes me nervous. We had thirty glorious minutes of sweet snuggling before he wanted to JUMP JUMP JUMP. He has been exercising his little legs lately and I am thankful for that jumparoo grammy bought him. And then he tuckered himself out and we took a nap. Well, he took a nap. I watched him sleep. I held his hand and listened to his still-stuffy nose quietly make snoring noises, and patted his back when he whimpered a little. It was an hour of magic. I almost teared up when I thought about these moments getting fewer and farther between as he grows up. Sure I’ve got a few good years left of mama-snuggles from my sweet boy, but not like this…not this still-dependant-sweet-baby stage won’t last forever. Every day it is slipping through my fingers, like sand in an hour-glass. And even though I am enjoying all the newness (a bed to myself for a few hours a night, as he sleeps in the co-sleeper for awhile now, and the ability to set him in the jumperoo to fold laundry for 30 minutes rather than having to hold him), but I get these little whiffs of nostalgia already…