Daddy, holding a wildly jumping baby, says "This boys' legs are getting strong, I think it's time I bring up the jumper from the basement." and though my mind knows that it's true, my heart cant help but whisper "no".
At dinner time, as Mal reaches and strains for my plate, finally grabbing a piece of bread and trying to stuff it into his mouth as fast as can be, I get that same gentle look from across the table, "He might be ready for some cereal soon, maybe we should pick some up at the store." And my heart of heart pleads, "No, he's still so little..."
This child I am trying to savor. Every moment I'm trying to hold onto because I know from experience that these moments wont last long. In those few minutes of afternoon quiet, when I know I have the choice between taking a nap, or tackling the laundry, or maybe reading a few chapters, I find myself instead just watching him sleep. So soon and he will be a defiantly independent toddler, so soon and he will be a man. And my heart says "no."
Not my oldest child, God willing not my youngest. I know my time to savor Malachi will perhaps be the shortest of all my children.
My happy Malachi. Easy-going and ever-patient, he is easy to sometimes overlook. He has a story to tell, though, this child. Born talking and I don't think he has stopped once since. And I cant wait for the day that he finds the words to tell it. I will be his most avid listener.
But at the same time I whisper "no". Our stories will diverge, at some point. There will be parts I dont know, parts he doesnt want to tell me. Words meant for other ears.
But at least I will know his first word was mine.
Josh refuses to hear it, but he's said it at least 6 times now.