Little Man

My little guy has gotten really, REALLY good at pulling himself up on the furniture and climbing the stairs (Hello, house full of baby gates). What with the crawling and cruising, you can't keep this little guy still. But every now and then, I get a glimpse of this:

And I know that that sweet state is the standard I'm always going to carry around with me, because regardless of where he goes or what he does, I know that at a fundamental level, that's who he is.

I see how curious my little man is about his daddy. How he watches his every move with already idolizing eyes. I know that he'll always love me, but every day he's becoming less and less my boy.

Does he already find it strange that when he does crawl in my lap, I bury my nose deep in his neck to find what's left of that intoxicating baby smell? Doubtless, he doesn't understand that I'm trying desperately to savor this blink-and-you'll miss it time in both our lives.