My Youngest
January 3, 2009|Comments (33)
At last, baby pictures! Would you look at those lashes? They are so long that Rita Hayworth and Liz Taylor would turn flips in envy. And those little hands… words fail me. Okay, maybe some poetry bits trickled in (leftovers from my college days). Sakes! What a doll!
For those of you who don’t know, we have four children (2 boys, 2 girls) who we are hoping to adopt. We are completely thrilled to be parents and are still a bit in shock over the whole thing. We literally woke up one day and became parents to a sibling group of four. God works in some very mysterious ways!
I was the youngest child in my family. Youngest children tend to have it the easiest — the high expectations were for the oldest child and so the youngest children often end up with the most freedom to be… well… children. Blissfully unaware of the events leading up to his placement in the foster-to-adopt program, he is a happy and laid-back little guy.
He coos, gurgles, hums, and giggles at all the right times — punctuating my sentences with his own insights. We are all in love with him and not-so-secretly thrill to see his tiny hands outstretched to us. We are instantly transformed into glowing delightful beings in those moments. To be wanted by such a lovey, sweetly-scented baby is a feeling that should be bottled and then added to the city water supplies. I believe, whole-heartedly, that this would reduce instances of violent crime.
Hmmm… on second thought… do hardened criminals drink water? It doesn’t seem to be their style. Perhaps it could be formulated to be absorbed through the skin. In the movies, mob guys are always taking baths. In fact, I can’t think of a single mob movie where someone isn’t in a tub. Can you?
Not that any of that has to do with my youngest child. Isn’t he a love, though? Oh, I can’t wait to be able to show you his beautiful face. None of these pictures do him justice. Really. I’m not just saying that.
