Thursday, January 25, 2007
The boys are both sawing logs. Shawn's on the phone in our room. I was just down stairs watching "Grey's Anatomy" (which totally always makes me cry because I miss Seattle so very very much). The show ended, I picked up a few random toys that didn't get picked up at clean up time. Loaded a few things in the dishwasher. My usual night routine before bed. Then I saw a piece of clothing on the floor, picked it up to toss in the hamper. And noticed they are a pair of Holden's pants. They are dark blue and velour. They are wee. Tiny. Soft. They smell like his lavendar lotion. They are just like him - wee, tiny, soft, and smelling so sweet. I ached momentarily, missing him, and he's only been asleep for a two hours. I'll be up with him in another 4 hours or so. But I missed him. My sweet little boy, my little baby. Who is already growing so fast. These pants -- which sit beside the computer terminal as I type -- used to swallow him up. Now they barely fit his pudgy little waist. At 3 months of age he's a growing little weed. One day a pair of pants fit him, the next they don't. I know he is my last baby, and I'm trying so hard to relish it as much as I can. But the days fly by. The time flies by. And soon these wee little pants simply won't fit him at all. And my little baby won't be as wee, tiny, soft and sweet smelling. But he will always be my baby.