8 months is practically a year

If you live with me long enough then you'll learn that I'm a "rounder."  I round everything up.  Time. Dates.  Progress estimations.  On a general Saturday at my house Daniel will ask what we want to do in the evening and I'll reply, "it's 4:00. The day is practically over."  Somehow in my brain, time works like that.  Sure, we have a legitimate 6 or 7 hours before we'll get to bed, but for some reason, the small pessimist in me sees the glass half empty. 

When Ben recently turned 8 months old, I caught myself thinking, "well, he's practically a year old!"  He may as well be a toddler, and better yet, he's almost off to college.  I guess I have loved these first 8 months so incredibly much that I WANT THE REST OF THE YEAR TO SLOW DOWN.  Please.

As frustrating as parenthood can be, we've had a great go at it thus far.  I still remember Ben making his first 'coo' noises, and trying to sit up for the first time with me pushing him back (gently) on our bed and saying, "no, you're dad isn't home!"  I remember him trying so hard to learn to roll over.  The first "da-da" noises.  With every new stage I grieve a little as I celebrate the new independence Ben gains.  Dang, this kid is awesome.

So let's take a gentle stroll down memory lane as we look at how little Ben, or Tank, as some of our friends loving call him, has grown in the last 8 months.  I kinda just wanted to put a collage together of the monthly photos anyway.  Also, surprisingly, I don't feel annoyed by the fact that they are thematically and background-ing-ly(?) inconsistent.

Okay, now I got to go wake him up from a 4 hour nap.  I'm not kidding.  He's been napping a lot this week and played a little too hard at daycare this morning, apparently.