TuttleTree.com

Dylan, today you are eight weeks old… or at least you will be at 15:47. I don't understand why people say that's not two months yet, (Ok, well, I do… 52/12=4.333 so technically a month is 4 and 1/3 weeks… but that's dumb. (Because 1/3 of a week is 2 and 1/3 days, and 1/3 of a day is 8 hours… so a month is — on average — 4 weeks, 2 days, and 8 hours. See? Dumb!)) and I don't understand why people count age in weeks after the first month (full disclosure: guilty!) and in months after the first year… but there are some things I do understand.

I understand that when you smile — which you are doing more frequently now — my eyes well up with tears because I'm getting my first glimpses into your personality and it really is amazing to think about where you came from and where you'll go; and it all sort of flashes before my eyes during that instant, every time.

I understand that you don't intentionally pee on my hands mid-diaper change, or immediately poop in a clean diaper, or spit up on clean clothes the moment you're snug in your car seat; that these things are par for the course and that all things considered we are pretty lucky to have a happy, healthy baby to take care of — to change diapers or clothes for 3 times in a row. So I am thankful for that.

I understand that one day you will be 18, and (probably) go off to college and leave this world behind you, totally unaware of how much life has changed for you in such a short time.

I understand that one day you will get married and start a family of your own, and only then will you understand and appreciate these things.

I understand that I owe a great debt of gratitude to my parents for all of their love and care which continues to this day, and I hope to have the same energy that they seem to when you are my age.