Sometimes it's hard to think that my tiny little baby is growing up. He's becoming a little boy. Mind you, he's still two, but every day he gets smarter, wiser, and more independent. I still want to think of him as my baby, and I think he will be until perhaps there's another baby in the house. This weekend we saw a friends' brand new baby (Molly - so cute), and she was SO tiny, it put it in perspective just how big our little boy is now. I barely remember him being so small he couldn't really move. I can't imagine his mouth anymore not full of teeth. And considering the chatterbox that he is, it's hard to believe there was ever a time when he wasn't talking. It seems like every new stage, I say... this is my favorite. It appears that every stage IS my favorite, and my favorite just happens to be this little boy who's grown up from a helpless human being, to one that looks at me when I put lotion on and says "that's nice, Mommy". My favorite is looking into those big green eyes, and seeing the independent little man that still does need his mommy. And I think about how much I still need mine, and it gives me a sense of calm and relief to know it won't end. No matter how grown up he gets.