I find it hard to reconcile that Oren Atlas was ever a two month old. Does anyone else suffer from an inability to recollect the true essence of their child(ren) from times past? I find myself pondering his first coos, the first time he really looked at me. But I am stuck in present and all of the firsts are clumped to form his current self. It must be time to watch old videos. Tomorrow is my birthday, this is an official request.
Also on the birthday agenda is a family breakfast out, yet another first for Dingo. The pumpkin patch (first). A high of 61 degrees. Slow cooker chili. Carrot cake, baked by my loving mother, the cake queen. I will be turning 25 years old and am keeping my fingers crossed for new boots. Mikey will no doubt wish me a happy day at least 53 times. It is going to be awesome.
Dingo-Pajamas and I were laying in bed this morning, in the dark, talking. We talked about hay rides, and petting zoos. He babbled his approval. We held hands, his bird-fuzz-head nestled into my cheek. I could have exploded and died a thousand times. He can be so tender.
A big sigh for all the babies today. And a swoon.