We are back from our périple and it is lovely to be home with Littlest in his own crib and room, but there is a feeling of let-down looking at my calendar and all the wonderful parts that are now over: mom’s visit, both parents’ visit, trip to Boston, trip to Germany. I will write soon about our flight experience with a nine-month-old (to sum up: fine, Littlest mostly loved it), but for now, I’m just feeling the feels.
So many memories were made during our ten days in Boston: Meeting my nephew Tiniest. Seeing him change before our eyes in the brief space of one week. Watching Littlest be fascinated by him, especially when he cried. Enjoying Grandpa and Nanna reading to Littlest and walking him around. Taking him on the subway in Boston. Going out with good friends while he napped at the apartment with his grandpa. Having him meet his great-uncle of the same name, and his great-aunt. Spilling all the baby stories to the aforementioned (newly expecting) good friends. Eating burritos, and ice cream, and buying new board books in English.
Littlest grew so much. He loved the train, the plane, the airport—really anything you put in front of him he was into. He started exploring—looking under rugs, going under tables, even pulling a CD off a bookshelf. He learned to crawl. On the airplane back with me, he was absolutely delighted to discover he could use the blanket to hide himself and play peekaboo. Our first day back in Europe with J, he pulled himself up to the couch. I feel like we’ve moved onto a new version of Littlest: I called him Littlest 3.0 when talking to my family about it (1.0 being the newborn stage and 2.0 being all the cuteness since then).
Saying goodbye to my family wasn’t too bad since I actually said goodbye to my mom just before boarding our Newark-Munich flight, and I didn’t have time to be sad. Now that we’re back, I’m reminded of the days they spent here before we headed to Boston, and I wonder if Littlest knows in any way that his grandparents aren’t just downstairs or next door. I guess there’s plenty of time for him to figure that out because this coming, going, cramming six months’ of memories into ten days, or twenty, is just the way it’s going to be.