Tonight I put my baby to bed one last time as a one year old. Freddie was born 14 minutes shy of midnight, so he won't technically be two for a few more hours. But we celebrated his graduation to toddler-hood madly none the less this past weekend.
It's hard not to think of him as a baby. He still wears diapers, he still sleeps in a crib, he even still nurses. I see him like this when I close my eyes:
But he had his year two check up today and he was exactly 30 pounds and exactly 36 inches tall. He runs and jumps and speaks so well. Before I put him into bed, he said rather emphatically, 'I don't like naps! I go DOWNSTAIRS!' He sleeps in said crib with a pillow, blanket, curious george, and now a rubber crocodile that he received at his big shindig yesterday, just like a big boy.
I just can't.
Tune in tomorrow for the montage. Until then, I'll be the one in the corner weeping.