A couple of weeks ago, I saw on Facebook that a baby of a friend of mine, born the same week as Paul, was already spending time in the Bumbo seat. Her FB status was a photo of him plopped in the seat, big smile on his face, with the caption: “Jacob loves spending lots of time in the Bumbo!”
It was then that it dawned on me that I should go dig out of storage our old Bumbo seat, to see if Paul was ready for it. Honestly, I had no idea it was Bumbo time already!
Paul is my fourth baby, and given that I’ve been raising babies and toddlers for the better half of the past decade, one would think I would be more on top of Paul’s next steps and stages. But I’m not. Not at all.
Honestly, each morning I wake up and it feels like he’s my first baby. I forget that we’re supposed to be working on tummy time (which he still hates). I’m told that we should start rice cereal sometime after his 4th month, and OMG according to Facebook, it’s Bumbo time already!
I think I know what’s going on with me. I’m living in blissful denial that Paul is growing up so quickly. He’s my last baby, and when the baby phase is done, IT’S DONE FOREVER. I’m plugging my ears to the continual pushing, shoving, and hurried attempts to get him to move on to the next big thing.
I swear, when I had my daughter, I was all about her growing up fast so we could do the next fun phase. Rolling over, crawling, or eating from a spoon. I wanted every stage to hurry, because the next one sounded even more exciting than the phase she was in moving through.
Paul is my last baby, and I’m all about dragging each and every phase out as long as possible.
But I guess it’s bumbo time, so I better go dust off it’s cobwebs.