Thursday, October 7, 2010

Can't he stay just so for a while longer?

He's infatuated with denim, and is only able to sleep if clutching a pair of pants. When he starts to get a bit whiny, we hand him a pair of jeans and he curls up with them, sucking his thumb. Sometimes on laundry day I'll note the disappearance of the bottom half of our family's wardrobe. I go to his bed and turn down the covers to find a nest made entirely of hoarded pants.

Lately he calls himself "astro boy" and warns me that he has machine guns in his bum cheeks.

Each night he asks for a "BIG-GIANT-HUG-anna-BIG-GIANT-KISS" from both daddy and me.

He dissects the world around him with unparalleled enthusiasm, dragging his feet on our walks in the most likable way. He says a cheery hello to every person he sees.

I can't stand the thought of letting him grow, though I really have no say in the matter.


And breath in every, fleeting moment of this season.

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