Tempus fugiting

Any number of times before Owen was born, I heard parents say, "I can't believe how fast the time goes." For the first six months of Owen's life, I have mainly wondered what they were talking about, as it has been the busiest, most tiring, fullest time I have experienced. The time does not go fast. I'm not suggesting time drags because it was awful or boring. I just don't feel like, "Hey, where did that week go?" Instead, last week generally feels like last month.

However, I've recently had my first two glimpses of parental time flight.

1) Now past Owen's six-month birthday, I realize he's closer to being a toddler than being a newborn. Though there is still a lot to come, it's now clear that there is a finite amount of baby-ness (eg, holding him and giving him a bottle) left.

2) Kerry's parents visited over Christmas, and we then saw them in Arizona nine days later. They commented that Owen had changed, but said that we wouldn't see it, because we saw him every day. With all due respect to Mimi and Pawpaw, I thought they were nuts. But I was just apart from Owen for five days, the longest time I've been away from him yet, and he has changed. His face is less round, he's using his legs to scoot around on his tummy, he's shrieking (with joy to see me, I assert), he's starting to cry like a child instead of a baby... a lot happened while I wasn't looking.