He's been playing with his big brother. He's go go going so fast these days I can hardly keep up anymore. But now, after a crying fit indicating he's tired and ready for his nap, he's slowed. Cuddled up in my arms like a baby again.
He's beautiful. From the sticky little hands, one clutching his bottle, the other holding his much loved, and currently very stinky blankie up to his cheek, to his nose leaking slimy boogers and the dried yogurt in his hair. He's a grubby little angel in my arms.
His brother yells from the playroom "Is Baby Bro-yer asleep? I want you to play Super Trucks with me!"
This one too, is amazing, from his skinned up knobbly knees to his dirt crusted fingernails. He's wearing a t-shirt and Spider Man underpants. He knows when Baby Brother goes down for his nap, he gets one on one time with me. When it's just him and me, there is no whining, no tantruming, just playing Super Trucks or building train tracks or watching cartoons and eating fruit gummies. There's tickle wars and bug hunting and flying Super Alex around in the air.
Being a mom, their mom, has been a wild rollecoaster ride for me, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I love EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND.
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