Blue-eyed little man,
Last night you woke up when we went to bed late, and after you finished a bottle you stood expectantly peering over the side of your pack-n-play at us, paci and big eyes effectively wooing your daddy until he picked you up and brought you to sit between us for some midnight family bonding.
You are adorable, your little chin resting on your hand and watching us tease and entertain you. We pull the sheets up so that we are under a tent, all of us, and you giggle with delight and show off your little rabbit two front teeth.
I stroke your soft cheeks and you rest against me, secure. In the morning when you're up before I leave for work, you cling to my legs even when we're playing, aware of the day's rhythm that means I will leave soon. That makes me ache, son, because while I love my job I don't want to leave you.
It's with delight that I hurry up the stairs at the end of the day, knowing that when I put my key in the door you will toddle towards it as fast as your little legs can carry you because you know it's me. I drop my bags and you fling away whatever is in your hands. I meet your breathless expectation and squeeze you tight, and you hardly know what to do once you have me. You always look back at your dad with a massive smile as if to say, "Dad, look who I found, did you see, did you see?!" You've even learned to give little kisses, which you tenderly plant and then avoid our gazes like you're embarrassed.
I love you, my little man. You are growing and exploring and I love that, but most of all I love it that you are most focused on your dad and I. You want to be with us, running away while we growl and chase you around corners, sitting with me on the bathroom counter top playing with toothbrushes while I put on my makeup, snitching pieces of our meals while we eat, taking the toys out of the box when we try to put them away, and together dancing badly to any given song. We are knit together, you and I and your dad. You are ours, our son. We are yours, your mom and dad.