Little Hands

When I hold my beautiful little boy, a million things run through my head. He is 3 1/2 months old and already straddles my lap when I rock him to sleep. I can’t believe there was a point in my pregnancy when I only wanted to have a girl. I can’t imagine my life without my son. I love every part of him, his developing personality and the little things that remind me of his father. There are some times when I can’t help but get lost in daydreams and hopes for his future.
I look at his head and wonder what team he will want to wear on his baseball cap. I wonder what his best friend’s name will be and what kind of trouble they will get into. When his little fingers wrap around my thumb, I can’t help but wonder when a wedding ring will be on his left finger. I hope his partner loves him as much as I love his father. When I see his ears I hope that when he hears something hurtful he knows he can always come to me for comfort.
I hope he finds love, breaks rules for a good story, gets hurt (but not too bad), finds something he is passionate about, stands up for what he believes in and loves someone as much as I love him.
I am looking forward to watching him grow but I hope he takes his time doing so.

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