The reasons we do...

Everyone thinks her child is beautiful. Everyone.
I realize this, and here I am about to wallow in it.

My baby just turned three. He is very likely my last child, despite the last few months' surcease of my "I am so done!" ranting. With his physical demands on my body easing, with his behaviour turning from maniacal toddler to a child of my recognizable tribe, my heart has tempered its resolution to never bear another child. This is not to say I ever will. But at least now I wouldn't cry. A lot.

~I digress.~

I was looking for pictures of the very, very fine sweater and came across many of D-baby as a baby. Before the maniacal toddler-- the child we called "Perfect." This particular set always makes me smile because I remember it so clearly. As the third child in a pretty close family, D-baby never belonged wholly to me like the other two did. I never was able to spend a lot of non-nursing, non-diapering time with him, just he and I. I had other children to attend, and he had siblings who doted on him. The older children, as small as they were, really did participate in caring for this little guy. Who knows what his worldview is, having that intense belonging? I can't even begin to imagine.

Anyway, on this one day when he was about 15 months old, he and I got to take a walk together. That's it. It wasn't all that long, and we only went around the neighborhood, but on this day he and I were able to go together, alone, and I brought my camera. He's such an infant in these pictures, clearly still "toddling," and the vibrant colors of the Spring here just accentuate how tiny and young he really is. I love them.

I love him.



And then, I had to release him back to the family.