For several years, I was ambivalent about having a child. A big part of my ambivalence was that I couldn’t get past the idea of having to care for a baby. Sure, I thought, babies are really cute, but they’re just so needy, so helpless and so darn poopy. But then a few of my friends had babies, and I observed that babies don’t stay babies. Babies become little kids and little kids are fun and charming and interesting (I know, I’m a slow learner). Suddenly, the idea of having a child wasn’t so scary. So we took the leap and fortunately, Boopsie came along.
Now it’s the eve of Boopsie’s six-month birthday. All of my friends (with toddlers) keep telling me that parenthood just keeps getting better and more fun. But when I’m sitting the the very near dark, with my very near six-month-old milk drunk and asleep against my chest — waiting out the reflux — I can’t imagine how it could possibly get any better than this.