Forced Ponderings

I wish that I didn't have to be forced to slow down, but such is the nature of my life. Last night I had the privilege of watching Peter while Saramiah moved out of their house.

Peter loves to be rocked while he is sleeping. He doesn't necessarily like being cradled, but rather prefers being held up to your chest as if he is standing while being rocked. He was a tired little guy because he slept for almost two hours while I rocked. And it's amazing the random thoughts that flit across your mind when the only sound is a baby's soft breathing and the creak of a chair. For example....

Why does this chair squeek and is there really nothing we can do to fix it? Niel said that it's just old, but really...doesn't oil fix everything?

Is there anything softer than rubbing your cheek against a baby's hair?

This chair is so uncomfortable. It kind of has a cushion that pushes your head forward. Niel says I'm just too short for the chair.

Dusk is the most amazing time of day. It's kind of magical, really. And dusk in the Spring is entirely different than dusk in the Winter. Winter dusk is cold and quick, strangling the light rather cruelly. Spring dusk kind of sneaks in, as if the light is the last to leave the dance of day, still waving good bye long after it was expected to be gone.

I really must dust that curio cabinet.

I still love that little sculpture that Laurie did in college. I remember when she gave it to me. She was so bugged when Angie called it "cute."

Isn't it sweet how Peter will take a deep breath and then breath out like a chugging train?

How can his little hand look so cute?

Does he feel fat in his skin the same way I feel fat in mine? I hope it's not uncomfortable.

Could it get any better than this?

Sweet Pete...thanks for the two hours.