I can’t believe Anthony is six weeks old already! I’m so very in love with my sweet little guy. Let me count the ways that I love him….
1. He is such a calm little fellow. Except when he’s hungry or wet or tired, he doesn’t really fuss.
2. He’s just started to smile and make cooing sounds. Oh melt my heart!
3. He’s already got chubby thighs. What’s not to love about chubby thighs!
4. He snores. Sometimes really loudly. One day he was sleeping on my chest and I’d fallen asleep. I woke and thought that Bella was playing with a toy car on the floor in the dining room and it was making a really loud whirring noise. Then I woke all the way up and realized it was the baby on my chest.
5. Sometimes he finds his hand and sucks on it. Really loud sucking. So cute!
6. The way his brother and sisters adore him and hug him and kiss him. How everyone fawns all over him.
7. The way he sleeps so totally when he’s tucked in the sling, snug up to my chest. (Except when he’s hungry.)
8. When he’s fussing and someone else (like my mom) is holding him and I walk into the room he often stops crying. He also stops when he hears me say, “Ok, Anthony.”
9. His little fists. How tiny they are, how tight they grip.
10. His bald patch. He’s bare in the front with hair in the back. Looks rather like an ancient Irish monk. Or a little old man.
Ok, have you had enough baby cuteness yet?
Me neither.
One of my boyfriend’s nieces was born on a Wednesday; because she was very ill I prayed a rosary for her. She did die the next day, sadly. Now whenever I pray the Glorious Mysteries I think of her and ask her to pray for me.
(I hope that’s not too morbid for the tone of this post…)
Sojourner, not too morbid at all. Beautiful, in fact. I think you get it exactly what I meant, how prayer becomes a part of our experiences and who we are.