Today I read a blog post, where a mum looks back on the early years and how she wished them away, always longing for the next stage. I know some people who feel the same, excited to see their little one learn to walk or longing for first words. Always looking forwards to when a baby can finally hold a conversation or kick a football. Planning the fishing trips, baking cakes, building dens. I understand that. Those things are exciting.
Not me though. I've been feeling nostalgic about my baby growing up since before he was even born! I suppose I've worked with so many children, seen so many beautiful newborns grow into gorgeously cheeky toddlers and wonderful independent schoolchildren. Some of them are even young adults now, graduating from university and forging lives all of their own. I know just how quickly they grow, how short and precious those early days are.
He's only 8 weeks old. But already he's growing out of clothes. He's learnt to roll over, to smile and giggle. He pulls a special face when he wants to make me laugh, sticks his tongue out at his daddy and grins when you lift him up to put him in the bath. He's so big and I already miss my little bundle.
I'm still excited to meet the toddler he will become, to find out what his interests will be, to read his favourite book 500 times a day (OK, maybe not that quite so much!) I want to take him to the zoo, go on picnics and bake a special cake together for daddy's birthday.
Just, not quite yet.