Dan is only six months old, but somehow, the phrase "When Dan was little" has already entered my lexicon. I look at (relatively) old photos and videos of Dan and recall past routines and how he's outgrown them. For instance, I miss our little breakfasts together. He would roll around while I sat on the floor eating my breakfast, reading the paper and listening to the BBC newshour. I'd make fun of the broadcasters' accents just to elicit a smile from him. Now, he tries to crawl and grabs at my newspaper. The radio no longer interests him and the funny accents are old hat.
Even certain smells can take me back to Dan's early days ... as my husband points out, "You mean a few months ago?" Exclusively breastfed babies have a rather pleasant smelling poop. Over the weekend, Dan went through a spell of not eating much solid food. So when I opened his diaper and got a whiff, I was suddenly overcome with a wave of nostalgia. And believe me, this was pleasant after a few weeks of sweet poo-tato and other rather frightening diaper surprises.
I never thought it would come to this but I've become nostaligic over poop. Thankfully, I get to go to work tomorrow. I need a break. (Yet another post started earlier and not finished. As I write, it's Wednesday night. To say I've had my hands full this week is an understatement.)
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