On Saturday you turned eighteen months old. One point five years. Another half birthday. How can that be?

I remember getting to six months a year ago and thinking, "Wait, what? Just six months? More like six YEARS." But not today. Today I am like, "Wait, what? When did you get your BA? How are we there already?"

Time is flying by fast.

This month you cut two molars without my knowing. It wasn't until one evening while we were playing that I was flipping you up and around and I peeked something white up top and froze you mid-flip and was like, "Whoa, kid, hold up. WHAT IS THAT."

You always cut teeth bottom-right, bottom-left, top-right, top-left. In that order. All eight so far. And then what? What is this? You were all swollen on the bottom right and I had been waiting and waiting on those when out of no where you've got two up top. Two! Both sides are cut.

This is awesome and scary all at once.

For a year and a half we've been one unit, mostly, and I knew everything. Every little bump or scratch. Every inch of your tiny body. I knew it all.

But now you've got teeth that come in without my knowing. We've been toying with the idea of putting you in a preschool a few days a week to get you out of the house and give you a hobby. The distance between us just keeps growing.

Some days I don't know if I'm ready.

I don't think I have a choice.

Happy Half Birthday.