Dear Binja:

How in the world is it eight weeks already?  And has it only been eight weeks?  WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO SLEEP THROUGH THE NIGHT? (Edit: I wrote this post yesterday, and last night?  HE TOTALLY SLEPT FROM 9:30 p.m. UNTIL 4:00 a.m..)

Alright, alright; although that’s been on my mind for awhile now, you had quite a busy four weeks.  You like to work around the clock, unlike your mother, so I’m trying my best to understand you.  You’re trying to understand me, too.  Like my obsession with pictures. 

Not only do you not understand my obsession, you really (read: SEVERELY) don’t like it.

In the last four weeks, you’ve become more of a tiny person and less of a bean.  This makes me incredibly happy, because I never expected the overwhelming joy of having a child beam from ear to ear when you enter the room.  And I love that you only do it for me.  I know that’s a moment in time that will trickle away, but I will forever remember how happy it made me. (Edit: Again, this was yesterday, and he sho nuff did it for his daddy last night.)

During this month, we went through some changes to our routine, which was both great and tumultuous.  The largest change was, of course, that I had to return to work and you were not in my arms for eight hours a day.  I was quite distraught the weekend before I went back, but since then I’ve realized that I enjoy time with you all the more when everything is condensed.  Also, I became so incredibly exhausted that I couldn’t miss you. (Edit: This did not change overnight.)

Your grandmother watches you during the day now, and I thought it would be a huge burden on her, but one day I kept you home and she got MAD.  She loves you more than her dauchsand, which is something to marvel at, and she continues your Binja training in our absence.

Your dad has found his rhythm with you, which coincided perfectly with the period of time I like to call “You Had Better Find Your Rhythm With Him”, when I was engaged in a production that left me unable to spend every non-working moment with you.  You guys found all sorts of hobbies to enjoy together:

Your brother has gotten used to you being around, although he still leaves the room for diaper changes.  We asked that he help with you at SOME POINT before he reaches driving age, which prompted the realization that you would be 9 years old when that happens.  Your brother then looked at us with all the seriousness of a terminal illness and said, “Guys, I’m getting old.”

Your father and I marvel every day at how, when we finally come back together as a family at the end of the day, you seem to have gotten older in that short time span that we weren’t with you.  Your motor skills are developing incredibly fast, and you’re now cooing and laughing back to us in response to some idiotic thing we’ve done to try and illicit the laughter.  You love all the new experiences we all take for granted, like bathtime:

And storytime:

And playtime:

And it enthralls me to watch you go through all of these new things and breaks my heart a little, as well.. because I never want you to be any bigger than you are right this second.