The golden sun shining in our window, with Daddy, Victor, and me all gathered at the table for breakfast. Two chubby little feet, thumping up and down in happiness while he wields his spoon with a flourish.
Arms draped over my shoulder, head nestled on my neck, little 20-pound frame curled up in a sleep sack while I pray for Jesus to watch over and keep him through the night.
Cheek-splitting smile and belly giggles while his little legs pump up and down, thrusting himself off the ground in the johnny-jump-up and then lolling back in his seat, only to start hopping again.
Quiet playing in the living room while I wash dishes in the kitchen, and then the slap, slap, slap of little hands on the tile as he rounds the corner to come find me.
Peeking in when he wakes up for a nap to see him wrangling his blue camo donkey.
Sitting at a stoplight and peering over my shoulder to the corner of the mirror where I can see his stoic little face... and watching it break into a big smile when he sees me.
Watching Daddy toss and roll Victor around on our bed, both in stitches.
Mouth wide open, leaning forward, sticking his tongue out to capture the first bite of oatmeal-and-sweet-potato goo.
These are sweet moments. Part of the "every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow."
Thankful.
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