Milo is getting old. I know, I know, four isn't forty. But he has gotten so grown-up lately. I guess I'm feeling a little on the sentimental side because I spent the last day and a half going through his old baby clothes to see which to store and which to sell in our garage sale (THIS FRIDAY - COME SEE ME!). It seems like yesterday I dressed him in these amazingly tiny onesies that looked too small for even a doll, and he was absolutely swimming in them. Now I can't even spell things in front of him anymore because he can sound out words and read. He's thinks pretty often about who his wife will be (he can't help it - he's a planner extraordinaire, just like his Daddy), even though I tell him that he has such a long time before he even has to consider it. And he can do cartwheels. How does this happen so quickly? I read this post by my friend E today, which referenced this post from Coffee & Crumbs, and I found myself nodding, even though my little man is so much older than theirs. Because I still find myself whispering, "Don't grow up so fast," every time I kiss his sleeping cherub face before I crawl into bed.
All this to say, here are a few pictures of my handsome, funny, ridiculously smart little man.
|Matching outfits = fun times|
|This smile. We're all in trouble.|
|Milo recently built a birdhouse with Nate. He felt so amazing.|
|Safety goggles and all...|