A few days ago (not today. I could have taken her to Spivey's Corner and we woulda won the grand prize..), a strange thing happened. Mise en scene: Back yard. She willingly let me take her picture.
|First, I said something funny.|
|Then there may have been a little impromptu posing.|
|And finally, here's our girl. Her sweetest self. Our baby.|
Today, I was thumbing through pictures of her (moms do this constantly) while she napped, smiling to myself, thinking. . . ."when was the last time she let me take more than one picture at a time?" I may be the only one who appreciates this - well, Brandon, too - because we're normally subjected to non-discernible pink and purple blurs of limbs and Crocs.
Well, the last time she sat for more than a few minutes was here. And that, y'all, brings the pain. ...In growing, that is.
While I'll probably still sneak into her room when she's 16 and asleep and she'll still look like a baby to me, the baby days might be drawing to a close. Ouch.