Imagine this with me: unmasked adoration on my baby’s chubster face when he sees me (especially when he’s hungry); seriously sweet hugs when I pick him up and he buries his precious, Burt’s Bees-scented fuzzy head into my neck; terribly loud toots when he pulls his feet toward his slobbery mouth; quiet little sighs as he nurses during those dark and tender midnight hours. I smell of a mixture of milk, lavender soap, buttermilk lotion, and you-don’t-want-to-know-what-else.

I am somone’s habitat.

Daddy just can’t quite cut the muster right, now, and oh have we tried. We both know the day will come when I will be trumped by worms to bait a hook with, skateboarding lessons, dirt, and baseball with Dad and big bro. But right now, I’m … it.

Pretty cool.

So to cherish this, to cherish him, and to save this habitat from insanity, I take a breather from teaching in the evenings. Here’s to you, and to all that you hold dear.

Related posts:

1. Sunshine and stars.
2. No fear.
3. Sticky Sticky Sticky.