As he nurses, he closes one eye… leaving the “upper” eye open to watch as his fingers dance a fine ballet, gently, lightly over the upper portion of my breast. Innocent and intimate, twirling, walking, from mole to mole. So gently that I can’t understand how he can even feel it, yet he coos in contentment. A connect the dots game that only a baby and his mother could find interesting.
Having a baby is such an earthy, innocent, intimate dance. I would have never thought those three words could be combined in one sentence, but it’s really the perfect and only description to me.
At the top of his right ear is just the smallest amount of lanugo. I know it will fall off all too soon, but for now I imagine that it’s all part of the proof that he’s our little elf baby, because it really does make his ear look like it belongs to an elf.
As the nursing session progresses, he will often time raise one of his blonde eyebrows, so different in color from all that hair on his head, and he’ll either fold his arms over his chest like he’s in a little baby straight jacket or he’ll put a fist up to his oh-so-soft cheek as if he’s really thinking about something while he eats his meal.
I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of this child. This amazing 10+ pounds of elf boy goodness.
My only wish for you is that your Christmas be as overflowing in fullness as our hearts are this Christmas.