Eamon is seven months old today, and I wish I could bottle him up the way he is now and keep him forever. He's just delicious. Those chubby thighs! That radiant smile, more glorious than the sun itself! The gentle, lovey coos he makes when he sees our cat Squeaky. The big powerful roars of happiness that come out of nowhere and fill our house. The beautiful sound of his laugh and the sight of those toothless gums. The way he tucks his bottom lip under and looks around pensively. The little baby hugs and squeezes (which are sometimes painful pinches, but who cares). And his eyes. I fall into them.
This little soul . . . my love.
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