Thursday, July 23, 2015

Sammy Dow, how precious you are.  You are the first one of my babies that haven't brought me anxiety.  I feel more akin to a grandma with an aching heart, longing for the days to hold my newborn again.  Each day drifts into another and you grow away from your newborn self.  Sorry to be so mellow dramatic kid.  I know there will be a place for this again in Heaven. 

Yesterday afternoon, I slipped out the backdoor to sway on the porch swing.  The sun was hugging me tight, but not such a squeeze that I wanted to wiggle away.  Cora eventually found me.  Her daddy must have wedged a balloon between her shirt and already round toddler belly.  "Ah, does Cora have a baby in her tummy?" 
"Yeah, baby Kin" (Quinn, her cousin) She says as she gingerly rubs the balloon.  How tender.  Then she wants to swing with her baby.  So, she lays on the swing belly side down because baby makes a great cushion. 
When these two are left bored and alone, someone is going to lose a chunk of hair or a piece of skin.  That somebody is usually Ender, poor guy.  But when they are left with a spark of an idea, they play like storybook friends.  The air softens around them and their laughter almost makes me faint with nostalgia.  I swoon extra when they end up playing with things you didn't buy to encourage developmental growth.  Such as this fine specimen of child's pool discarded by the previous owners because their dogs weren't using it anymore. 

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