Sometimes it seems as though the days (or even the minutes) last forever.
Although Island Boy's vocabulary at this point is limited at best, he somehow manages to convey a multitude of demands throughout the day.
For example, we manage to understand that we are expected to read, nay sing, "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" (E-I-E-I-O!) a minimum of 42 times. In a row.
We are expected to walk endless laps around the house guiding our little one towards his first solo attempts.
We are expected to read minds, one in particular.
We are expected to constantly entertain without fussing too much - or too little.
We are expected to assist, but not too much, in conveying a reasonable amount of food, one tiny spoonful at a time, into one tiny little mouth three times a day. We are expected further to understand what type of food Island Boy is in the mood for and how much he would like and this includes determining how much food should be allocated for self-feeding vs. assisted feeding.
And, although we aren't expected to, we do understand that the tears won't last forever, even though it sometimes seems like they might.
Will all of these requirements filling our days, we're always mindful of what our friends with toddlers recently told us:
The days last forever...
but the years fly by.