Jun 162015
 

He got to ride a fire truck this weekend so he wears his red plastic firefighter hat as he helps me make dinner, clumsily stirring the sauce in the pan, helping me break noodles to put into the pot, dry noodles flying everywhere. I watch his dimpled arms reaching for the can opener and it almost hurts to see the innocent concentration on his face.

My first little son lost his first little tooth and now I call him “Toothless.” He talks with a small lithp now and he still cries sometimes when he gets hurt or is upset. He cries when his baby sister has to get her immunizations. I’ve stopped taking him anymore because he’s harder to handle than the one getting the shots.

My small baby has one dimple on her left cheek and fine, curly baby hair that we’re convinced will never grow. She’s learning some baby songs (just the actions), and I watch her touch her head, then her toes, head, toes, head, toes, eyes…..ears…mouth. Clap, clap, clap. Yay!

My first daughter will let me help her pick her clothes out but I can’t do it every time so she comes upstairs wearing sparkly black and pink pants with an equally sparkly pink sweater (in the summertime) and she asks me if she is pretty. “You are always beautiful,” because what else could I ever say?

Just in moments, little moments, sometimes I grasp what I am going to miss when they grow up, up, and away. Thank heaven they are still little, just for now.

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