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.