Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Wandering Baby.

Sam's been a hoot lately (yes, I'm channeling my mother).  I found a crate full of Lincoln's old clothes and Sam's claimed them as his own.  They're big-boy clothes: jeans shorts, polos, flip flops, not the coordinating garb of babyhood (as much as I love babyhood, I adore a toddling baby).  

He walks with me, holding my pointer finger, instead of being held all the time, which isn't always a good thing.  Freedom has its challenges.  Once given, it's hard to take away, so I have to figure out beforehand if this is a carry-him errand or a let-him-walk errand.

If Sam could be outside all day long, he would.  We have a lot of big windows along the back side of our house and since the weather's been nice, I'll let him explore our backyard on his own while I fold laundry or clean the kitchen (not to worry, I'm always watching).

The best part about it is Charlie, our dog.  He's like a built-in babysitter that I never have to pay, always within arms reach of Sam's squishy self.  Charlie keeps Sam from wandering too far.  He's a baby-herder.

Spring is finally here.  It took long enough.  The doors are flung open.  The breeze is fresh and cleansing.  We can live outside again.  All's right in the world.

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