Watching Him Grow
As Rollie grew, he filled out. A lot. Lugging him around in his car seat was like toting a fortune in gold bricks. Strangers would greet him with "He sure doesn't miss many meals!" His rolls had rolls. We were losing Binkies in his arm folds. Also, his hair began to fall out. Not that he had so much to begin with, but by about 4 months, he had developed a bald patch on the back of his head. When new hair grew in, it was erratic and thin, like a half-blown dandelion.
As his mom, I didn't mind these physical oddities in the least, especially when he smiled. Every time I looked at that drooly, gummy, full-on grin, all I saw was a happy baby who would always be beautiful in my eyes. And that's a good thing, because stroller walks eventually give way to time-outs. Instead of being covered in spit-up, Rollie now comes to me covered in dirt from my trampled flower bed. Gone are the rompers of my choosing, and in their place are the T-shirts he insists on wearing until they're ratty. He's no longer a miniature sumo wrestler, but a gangly, smooth-skinned blond with a penchant for spiders.
The moments when I can sit and admire Rollie are fleeting now. He is a whirlwind of questions and fears and tricks and games. My son is a full-blown boy, and it's hard for me to remember him as that scratched-up, balding, plump, pimple-covered infant I'd come to adore.
Originally published in the September 2011 issue of American Baby magazine.