6 months

I can’t believe it’s been 6 months since baby girl was born. My wife can believe it, cuz she was the one who actually gave birth, but it’s still kinda surreal to me. More to the point: it is even crazier that it’s already been 6 months… In this time, she’s learned to see, eat (or at the very least drink), sit and she’s now starting to crawl, to our obvious dismay. Meanwhile, what have I done, except write about her exploits?

In any event, and although it’s only the very beginning of a process I can only anticipate the extent of (especially if she chooses to get a PhD or, worse, become an artist), it’s already been quite a ride. 6 months ago, I only knew what being a father meant in theory. 6 months ago, I didn’t how to change a diaper. Now I do, although my wife is still faster. And then there are all the firsts: first time she truly looks at you, first time she smiles at you (in our case, those two luckily happened simultaneously) , first time she grabs stuff (including the cat’s fur, which he somewhat disapproved of), first time she entertains herself on her own (that one was a big day)… Now, when I look at pictures of the early days, she already feels big. As in — old. That’s not ageism: the first few months are like a TikTok video in x5 speed…

A couple of days ago, as we were on the train back from Lyon and baby girl was fast asleep on my wife’s lap, I said out loud what I thought I was only thinking to myself:

— She’s already so big…

— I know…

— I mean, she’s not even a baby anymore…

— Huh… Slow down, she can’t even walk yet, she is still a baby…

— OK. But she’s not that helpless little bundle of wonder she once was…

— What are you saying?

— That I’m starting to understand why people want to have another kid to relive that first bit…

— Hold that thought…

— How long?

— A while!

Again, I was not the one giving birth…