You have lit up my life little one


We dance in the kitchen to Feetwood Mac, you are tired, but happy. You let me cuddle you in close, I smell your sweet skin, your fuzzy hair tickles my neck. I sway back and forth while the water boils on the stove. It's spaghetti for supper tonight.
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You stand in the living room, pumping your legs up and down, up and down, while I hold your back to help you keep your balance. Your little hands slam hard on the coffee table, pounding it like a drum, "Da, da, da, dum! Da dum, dum, dum!" Daddy plays the coffee table right along with you and we laugh at your antics.
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The apples from our recent trip to the orchard litter the counter. I see you eyeing them, so I cut one up and hand a wedge to you. Your dimpled hands pull it to your mouth while you suck all the juice out. You grin at me from around the apple slice, then proceed to suck harder than before, determined to get every. last. ounce. of juice out.
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The space heater hums beside us as you gurgle and coo while looking at me. You've had your fill from nursing and now we just stare at each other. Your wearing your green striped pajamas with the monkeys on the feet. My favorite ones. Your little arms reach up to grab my braid, touch my face. I could swear you are trying to memorize it.
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We lay on a quilt on the back yard, waiting for daddy to come home. It's cool out, but we lay in the sun to keep us warm. I tickle you under your ribs and you look at the sky and try to push my hands away while laughing - big, breathy, belly laughs that would make even the grumpiest old man laugh right along with you.
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I carry you in my sling. Your tiny feet stick out on either side of my waist. I pick tomatoes from the backyard and you watch intently as I put them one by one in a bowl. I let you touch one of them. Feeling its soft red skin; you get excited and squeeze it faster than I can stop you - spraying both of us with tomato juice. You are surprised, but proud of yourself. I laugh, wiping seeds from both our faces.
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I creep into your nursery late at night to look at you. Your arms are folded over your eyes like you're blocking out the sun, although it's pitch black in the room. You breathe deeply and stir a little, so I freeze, willing you not to wake up. It's a false alarm, you are indeed still sleeping, so I sneak a kiss, take one more glance of you in your crib and tiptoe out.

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How is it possible that I've gotten to keep you for six months?  You have lit up my life little one.

1 comments:

  1. precious, precious, precious moments...

    babies are the best.

    ReplyDelete