The boy.

Beach boy

I look at this little baby, and I see a boy. A boy covered in sand, sunscreen, salt water, joy.

I see a boy curious for the world. Eager to explore. Ready for adventure.

I watch as the boy soaks it in: the sun, the sand, the beach, the day.

He wakes up laughing most mornings. There are a few whimpers, then some rustling in the crib, then laughter. He is ready to take on the day, this boy.

And I find myself wondering, where did it go? The days that seem to last forever yet at the same time move so quickly they all¬†blend into one fleeting moment of time in which my tiny little baby has turned into a boy. It is so quick. One year’s time. So very, very quick.

I feel proud.  Proud of myself, my husband, our family, but mostly proud of this little boy.

For there are things we hope for when we have children, and if I had to voice my greatest hope for my little baby? It would be that he loves the world. That he looks at it as a place of wonder, a place to explore, a wealth of adventure. That he shares his mother’s curiosity for new places, new food, new people.

But meeting each day with laughter?

I didn’t see that one coming, though I sure do love it.

 

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