Last Saturday Tom and I both made to-do lists. One of our lists looked like this: 1. run 10 miles2. mow the lawn 3. enclose our compost pile4. vacuum5. dust6. trim shrubs7. watch 10 hours of basketball The other looked like this: 1. Go to the playground and put David in the baby swing I’ll just
Those of you who know my husband will be surprised to find out that he was the catalyst for getting the baby sunglasses.
Last night when I reminded Tom that today was David’s seven-month birthday he said exactly what I was thinking, “No way.” Way. The calendar doesn’t lie. Some months have seemed to drag. Like month 3. Or month 5. But this one came out of no where and popped us on the noggin. Babies are fickle,
We dismantled David’s swing a few weeks ago and sent it to the attic. It was surprisingly a non-event. I tend to attach fabricated sentimental value to inanimate objects. This means he is GROWING and getting BIGGER! He LOVED this swing. This swing was responsible for most of his naps for the first three months
Can you see what David is chewing on? How about now? It’s a chicken bone. And he is NOT sharing. See those eyes? They’re the eyes of gratitude. His Grammy would be so proud.
On warm days like today, David helps with the laundry. I bring out a blanket and he looks around, listens to the birds, and tries his hardest to do this: Brigham comes, too. But mostly he just acts like he doesn’t know us.
David was baptized this weekend. I grew up in a church that didn’t baptize little ones, so if you’re like me and are unfamiliar with the practice of baptizing infants, I found this explanation. In addition to claiming God’s covenant on behalf of David, it was also an opportunity for Tom and me to stand
In case you can’t tell what’s happening here, David has somehow wedged his thumb into his pacifier. (Sorry for the blur. David was on my lap, super close to the lens.) It was the collision of his two favorite worlds in a way he never dreamed possible. If a look can say, “Woman. If you
This month almost killed me. I know I’ve said that before, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. This time I’m beginning to realize that when you decide to have a child, you’re signing up for thanking Jesus every night that you made it through one more day. I’ve stopped waiting for
Thankfully, David’s standards for humor aren’t high. He finds it hilarious when I just stand back and say “boop”. No punchline required.