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.
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.
No comments:
Post a Comment