In the morning, before the rest of the house stirs, when I know my early riser is awake and waiting for his momma to come and get him. I climb in his bed and we talk: about his dreams, about our plans for the day, about how much I love him. My favorite firstborn. My favorite moment.
Mid-morning, my hub and I sit on our screened in porch, me nursing our new baby, both of us watching our older two children run around in the backyard, and talk, just the two of us, without interruption, a soft breeze blowing as we relax into the couch and sip our coffee. My favorite man. My favorite moment.
Late afternoon, when the house rests, I creep quietly into her room, knowing she will be sitting up in her bed in nothing more than a diaper and the shoes she has retrieved from her closet and worn throughout her nap. I lie next to her and kiss her cheeks 10, 20, 100 times, telling her again and again she's my best pal, my special girl. My favorite daughter. My favorite moment.
In the still of the night, when all is quiet in my slumbering home. I nurse him in the darkness, stroking his light blonde hair, breathing in his perfect newborn smell, and gently kissing his round cheeks. It won't be like this for long. My favorite baby. My favorite moment.
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