Dear Shea,
I'm watching you sleep right now and simply admiring you. Thanking God for you. You must be dreaming of something because your hands keep moving around, and a few minutes ago you took your pacifier out, turned it around and put it back in your mouth. I take a deep breath and try to soak it all in. I wonder if you are this beautiful when no one is looking.
Today, you did not crawl. I say this because I know there will be a day soon, perhaps tomorrow, when I cannot say that. I spent time with you this morning, trying to get that back leg to move in forward motion. You, like your brother at this age, have little interest in crawling; you just want to stand and cruise around the furniture.
When you do crawl, I'm anxious to have Anthony, three weeks older but quite the crawling pro, over and see the two of you race. I can picture the race now. It's much like the turtle races my sister, brother and I would enter for the Rice Lake County Fair. All the turtles placed in the middle of a large circle and then the temporary owners stood around the ring chanting for it's turtle to cross outside of the circle first. I remember shouting and jumping up and down hoping my turtle would bring me home a bag of cotton candy or some over sized stuff animal. Ha.
Lest I continue comparing you to a turtle that I found on the side of the road, I'm going to save the rest of my sentiments for later.
I love you sleeping Shea. Sweet dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment