Max. On his tricycle. With his Thomas sunglasses and long sticky hair. Yes, I said sticky. His hair is actually sticky, but we're growing it out so we're going with it. He rides his trike all the time now.
He also wants to do everything by himself. Including putting on his sunglasses, which is why they're worn like this.
And no socks for him. He prefers bare feet, but when I demand shoes, he refuses socks. He now sports a little blister on his heel and hobbles around but still will not. wear. socks.
And this one? Always with his horsie. Always wanting what his brother has (ahem, the Thomas sunglasses?). Always wanting his binky. Always with a filthy face.
And always wanting a freshly picked flower. The yellow ones.
These two. Together?
Well, my heart just explodes.
And then, Max torments Ben in some way (or vice versa) and I sigh and breathe deep and remember to hold tight to these precious memories. The ones that will soon be too distant. The ones that are forming their little childhoods. The ones I hope they'll remember with a smile.
I know I will.
No comments:
Post a Comment