I love watching Jameson’s imagination grow and develop. I love that recently he’s discovered “train tracks” in the lines of our hardwood floors, the borders of the oriental rugs, the pattern of the kitchen’s linoleum. Suddenly, his train can choo-choo all over the house, unhindered by pesky things like wooden rails. (Of course, this means watching your step. Nothing like the feel of a small toy underfoot!)
I adore William’s chubby-cheeked profile when he sleeps. It’s perfect. Actually, he’s perfect. I confess: I kiss him and smoosh him and pinch him all. day. long. All day. And then I watch him grow. Suddenly, he grabs for toys. He talks at them. He arches his back when I’m taking him out of the car seat, in that, “Here, Mom, let me help ya out,” sort of way. He’s interacting with the world, with us, and it’s amazing. Wasn’t he just brand new? When did he have time to learn all of this??
I love, love, LOVE being a mom, because I LOVE these babes.
(How could anyone deny that we are masterpieces — every one — of a Great Artist? Surely every mother must know: this child was fashioned by God!)