It’s been a while since I’ve written about Everett. He’s now fifteen and a half months old, quite the little man. We’re two weeks into the “Summer of Dadventure,” as I’ve named the three months I’m taking off after leaving Groundwire and before starting grad school. I’ve got Everett all to myself three days a week. So far so good. Lots of walks to the beach, to the park, plenty of swing time on the porch. It’s amazing how much time one spends on eating: three squares a day plus snacks. He’s quite the fruit fiend; mammals love sweet.
It is funny how sometimes the hours fly by, while sometimes the minutes drag on like hours, and how quickly it can alternate between the two extremes. I suppose that may say more about my interruption-addicted attention span. Nevertheless, I’m pleased at how relatively painless it’s been to slip into the rhythm of Dad Time. I’m a bit worried about running out of things to do, given his still-pretty-narrow parameters of time, energy and attention.
His verbal and physical skills are changing noticeably every day. That’s probably the omst fun part so far. Time to teach him to high five.