My friend came over the other day to check up on NJ, beer in hand, and ended up on feeding duty:
NJ spent most of the time trying to grab that thing off his chin.
A lot of the guys I know who have daughters (older than NJ) are especially interested in her progress, it seems. They run the gamut from a dad whose tween daughter is starting to rebel a bit to a guy who says he's wanted a couple of blonde daughters ever since he was a kid (he got them).
Of course, there's going to be lots of interest in NJ anyway, what with her being cute and beautiful and happy and smiley and all that. But I think a lot of it has to do with the don't-blink-or-you'll-miss-it nature of kids growing up. Just about everyone I know with kids older than NJ is quick to suggest I pay close attention to her because she'll grow up so incredibly fast.
And it's true -- yesterday I had trouble remembering the days when we first brought NJ home and were up every two hours feeding. Those days, which were very intense and trying, seem like half a lifetime ago, when in fact they were just half a year ago. I had to flip through some of our two bazillion photos to jog my memory. Oh yeah, once upon a time she was tiny and didn't smile and cried a lot and didn't care about toys.
I thought about all this when NJ and I were at the supermarket, which was the first time all week we'd even left the house. We've had fun playing around the house -- NJ is sitting up now, a mite unsteadily still but getting better all the time. Voluntarily holding yourself captive in the house is not good, though, and today it'll change. The weather is great, The Wife is here, and the three of us will be accompanying the dogs to the lake in a little while.