My kidlet is nearly 15 months old. I have no idea how that happened. Really, I don't. People would tell me when they saw us out after he was first born, "Oh, it goes so fast... pretty soon they're (insert activity of their child here)." And I got tired of people saying that because I just wanted to enjoy him at 6 days or 2 weeks or a month and not think about when he'd be walking/talking/going to school/driving a car/going to college... I hate it when others are right like that.
Tonight was a night of meetings for me at church; I was away for bedtime and got home well after he was sound asleep. I, of course, couldn't (can't) sleep. So, I picked him up out of his crib and held him -- rocking him in his sleep, more to soothe myself than him, clearly. By the light of the hall night-light I studied him, breathed in his scent, rubbed his knees, marveled at how he no longer fits neatly in my arms but instead spills over my arms and the sides of the chair. He has gotten "so big" and toddles and babbles all over the place. And while it's different than when he was 6 days or 2 weeks, it's perfect.
Special thanks to Will Smama for the reminder to pay attention to these little times of quiet.