The other day, after spying a small pile of brightly colored animals left behind by one of his sisters, Anders pulled himself up on his dad’s “head of the table” chair, settled himself – legs dangling – and had a little play. Animals bonked one another’s heads in happy acknowledgment and spoke greetings in fairly constant, friendly sounding gibberish.
I watched. And oh good heavens.
Love. Adore. Crazy about. Enchanted.
No. It’s no use. The words twist and tumble in my brain – banging into one another and scrambling together – as I try to discover the right ones. The exact right ones. The ones that are powerful enough.
It only makes me dizzy.
There is a sturdy, round and soft, little person – 17 1/2 months old – who runs about this house, zips along through every moment of our comings and goings and living, who drives little cars, and demands little drinks, and hugs little blankets, and . . . is mine. My very own boy.
And that doesn’t really describe anything at all.
Only . . . oh my. It feels like it describes something more than kingdoms and gold, more than oceans and mountains; something more than the very sun rising.
This little boy, those little hands, playing with these little animals.
My little boy.
I will just settle for the one easiest word. Love. I love him. So much I love him.
5 comments:
Beautifully put. I could copy and paste this pay to my blog for Miles. Your little Anders is so so sweet. I love him. He still looks so very different and big since getting his hair cut!
What a tender, beautiful blog about a wonderful little guy. You have an ability to put in words what the rest of us can only feel in our hearts.
What Gayle said :)
So well said. I love that you included squishiness as a one of the irresistable qualities.
So Precious! The love we are able to share with, our precious ones, is truly priceless. I didn't know love until my boys came to me.
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