In which one brother will decide it's time for you to have a first go at a mo hawk, while another will be caught (and scolded) for trying to force you up against a wall to practice standing on your own.
Where you will still refuse a bottle. Outright. And so I will walk back and forth between hotels during a wedding in the desert, to feed and comfort you. Where you suddenly take to waking three or four times a night again due to teething issues, or growth spurts or whatever it is that makes you babies cry out for someone when you start to realize you are alone there, in the dark of night while the rest of the house sleeps solid, and soundly.
Where you still smile, indiscriminately, at every single person who happens to enter your frame. My tiny sweet hip companion, with the joyful eyes and happy face. The only baby I've ever had strangers stop to remark about how much you resemble me. Reflections I see and cherish too.
Half a year.
In the blink of an eye.
But by now, we know to expect that. How quickly babies turn to toddlers and toddlers into boys.
And possibly, even faster if those brothers of yours have anything to do with it.