Sarah and I just put the boys down for their morning nap and we were both noticing how big they are becoming. They turned 5 months old last Tuesday.
At 5 months old, Colin loves rolling over to his right and kicking his left foot like he is furiously trying to cold start a motorcycle and Benjamin loves to grab both feet and jam them in his mouth.
They are just about as great as can be.
90% of the time we are able to tell them apart at a glance, but there are still those 10% moments when we look at each other and one of us says, "I think Colin is on the left."
Sarah started the boys on Johnny Jump-ups recently and they never hesitated. Colin is an especially determined hopper.
I caught myself gushing about how proud I was that he was jumping with such gusto, and then I felt a pang of guilt that I hadn't equally praised Benjamin, who was happily waggling around in it like a drunken hula dancer.
So I invented some praise for Benjamin's happy waggling, but realized at that moment how difficult a balancing act fathering is going to be (especially once they can actually understand what I'm saying).
Finally, our 5:30pm walks have become something of a daily ritual. Tensions at this hour have typically risen beyond the level of pleasantries and it's a good change of scenery to take a jaunt around the neighborhood.
Benjamin decided to play some charades with us on a recent excursion to pass the time. I guessed Eddie Van Halen of Van Halen and Sarah guessed 'BAM,' Emeril kicking it up a notch but we were both wrong.
Colin got it on his first try:
Elmer Fudd hunting wabbits.
Should have known.