Look at this poor little guy. He has something coming from almost every orifice in his head. Thank goodness nothing from the ears yet. He woke up yesterday with some mattery eyes, but was otherwise himself. Today he's got a fever, more gunk, and he just wants to be held by his momma. "Why is that a bad thing?" you ask. It's not, but it took me a little bit to get it through my task-oriented, thick head that the toy room doesn't have to be organized today. But wait, Gregg is coming home tomorrow and I want the house... No. Pick up the sweet baby and just hold him. As I scurried around the kitchen getting our lunch ready, I was making a mental to-do list for the afternoon. Then I looked down at this little man just staring up at me. His eyes screaming, 'pick me up!' My first thought was, "Really, Micah...now? I have so much to do!" I almost broke rule #2 of mini-marathon training (see previous post). Almost, but not quite. Okay, Buddy, let's just rock.
Martha, I remember how you wanted to be held one weekend while you were trying to cut four teeth. I just held you the whole weekend. I loved every moment of it. You were so precious and now you are a precious wife and mother. I just praise God for you and your family.
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