As much as I love my kids and enjoy every stage of their development, I'm just not a baby-baby kind of person.
Yes, baby-babies have cute feet and sweet-smelling heads. Yes, they are tiny and helpless and so dependent. Yes, I even get immense satisfaction from nursing my babies, and I love watching their little eyes droop closed into a milk-induced coma.
But, the fact of the matter is, I don't go ga-ga over babies.
I have little desire to hold other babies. I don't insist on ripping off their socks to experience the euphoria that is baby feet. I don't get that fluttering feeling when I see little tiny babies.
I just don't! Of course, it's different with my own, but they're mine. We have a connection.
Oh, sure, I think other people's babies are cute. I really do. And I'll hold another baby without having to be asked twice. I just don't melt into a puddle of goo over them.
That being said, I honestly can't wait for The Little Prince to grow up.
I enjoyed Cinderella's baby years because she was my first, but I always anxiously awaited the next stage to see what she would do and how she would develop.
I enjoyed Sleeping Beauty's baby years even more because I knew what was coming. I knew to enjoy every minute of every phase she went through because I knew it wouldn't last.
With The Little Prince, however, I'm tired of babies. I am so looking forward to him sitting up and interacting and exploring. I am so looking forward to him realizing he can play with his sisters. I am so looking forward to him crawling and walking and eating and talking.
It's not that I necessarily want him to grow up quickly; it's not that I'm not enjoying him right now as he is.
I am just so excited to see the person he's going to become.
I am so excited to see his little personality develop. I am so excited to see how he interacts with his sisters. I am so excited to have a little boy in the house and see how he differs from the girls.
I feel like I should want him to stay a baby forever. He's my last one. (And, yes, we've taken measures to ensure he's our last one.) I feel like I should not be looking forward, but only looking back and regretting that I'll never experience any of this again.
But I'm not. And I don't really want to. I know I'll miss these days. I know I'll probably miss having a baby someday.
Then again, I might not. I might just enjoy my children where they are too much to miss where they were. We'll see.