Yesterday, I received an email from Mom365 informing me that my favorite little mess is now 100 weeks old. Coincidentally, it was the same day he turned 23 months.
It sort of blows my mind that 100 weeks have passed. It doesn't seem like that long ago I was measuring Banner's life in days and weeks. Yet soon I'm going to the mother of a 2 year old.
Seriously? Multiple trips around the sun? Already? How is that possible?
This time last year, Banner was bald, crawling baby. Now he is a running, jumping, always on the go toddler who told me yesterday that, "Daddy funny. Mama no funny" right before demanding that I change the "saun, peas" (song, please). Because apparently the Mi Mi song (which he thinks is about Auntie Mimi, by the way) can only be followed up by Journey, not Imagine Dragons. Duh.
(Silly mommy.)
My mind is sort of blown, y'all. I wish there was a way to bottle time, so I could savor Banner at this age for just a little bit longer. Because I know I'm going to blink, and he is going to be 3. Heck, I just bought him 3T-4T overnights on Tuesday. Not to mention all the conversations Trevor and I have had lately about transitioning him to a Big Boy Bed in the next few months.
I just can't take it. It's too soon, folks. Too soon.
Time to pull an ostrich and bury my head in the sand. Because maybe if I pretend hard enough, he will stay my baby for a little while longer.
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