Of Playing Favorites

I've always heard parents say every stage is your favorite.

And, for the most part, I'd found this to be true.  I would bemoan the signs of aging in my daughter only to discover just how fun this new stage of life was. 

Now I'm beginning to wonder.

Comparing the two - I think I like the five-month stage just a little better than the toddler stage.

To be sure - those moments of "I lul you, Mommy." and "Good night, Jesus!" are darn precious and I wouldn't trade them.  But there's something to be said of setting a child down and knowing he won't go anywhere.  Of his being strong enough to not feel like I'm going to break him while stuffing his little armies into his little sleevies (if you got the joke, you'd be chuckling to yourself right now, promise), but also young enough to not argue about what pair of pants his legs are wearing.  Of knowing his chubby hands won't be pulling any ornaments off the tree unless I'm thoughtless enough to lay him under it (and even so they'd still be just out of reach).  Of being able to entertain him with a simple hug or just a teething ring - rattling is optional.  Of being able to cook, clean, relax without his whining demands that we do what he wants to do exactly when he wants to do it (unless, of course, it's feeding time).

Yes, there is something to be said about the greatness of five months.

Two years isn't bad - it just requires a lot more energy.

Five months seems to hit me at just my level of laziness.  Unfortunately, I can't stop the clock - so I'll just have to console myself with those big hugs and sweet songs of toddler-hood.