Remembering the Little

This is my baby.  Well, actually, she's my middle child.  But she's my baby.  I tell her that all the time.  "You're my baby; don't ever grow up."  She just giggles.  Her eyes sparkle and I know the wheels are turning in her head.  "No, Mama.  I have to grow up."  And I giggle before I start chasing her around the house: "Don't you dare grow up, Lydia.  Be my baby forever."

It's a lesson I relearn every day.  These are my babies.  No matter how much they grow, ... no matter how much they learn, ... no matter how much adult behavior starts coming out of their little bodies, they're still my babies.

That's what I'm learning these days.  Remembering to see the little in them.  Nothing gets them excited like a water fight in the backyard.  And in that moment, I remember what it felt like to run free, summer emerging and a garden hose in my hand.

I see the little in them as they come into the kitchen on a Saturday morning, still in jammied feet, begging to put the chocolate chips in the pancakes.  Little fingers rushing to the fridge, grabbing syrup and butter.  I remind them to get the peanut butter and remember my own early mornings, grateful to see the weekend stretching ahead.

The little comes out as they dream of where the Lord will take them: sculptor, firefighter, artist.  The little comes out as they hunt for pennies on a sidewalk.  The little comes out as they laugh making silly noises at the dinner table.

And I know there are lessons to learn, manners to enforce, attitudes to restrain, schedules to maintain, and chores to complete.  And there are meals to cook, diapers to wash, carpets to clean, and homework to write.

But there are also boo-boos to kiss, eyes to look into, hugs to melt into, jokes to tell, memories to make, moments to absorb, ... little to remember.

The little that surprises me when Noah asks if I'll just stay a few extra moments at bedtime.  And we giggle and tell jokes and make memories.

The little that melts me when Lydia runs into the room, just to embrace my leg and tell me that she loves me.  And I lean down for a kiss and I whisper in her ear that I love her too.

The little that pierces me when the Baby stops his play, instantly, looking deep into my eyes and I feel like he knows everything about me.  And we snuggle silently, letting the minutes tick by.

And our hearts knit closer.

And I see the little in my babies.  And they remind me that it's the little that makes life worth living.

*Linked to these Parties.