While Husband gave the girlies baths tonight, I lied in my bed, snuggling Baby Boy.
Oh how I love snuggling my babies.
His post-nursing, glossy eyes stared up at me as I traced the curves of his face with my index finger. His eyes went back and forth, taking turns focusing on each one of my eyes. His baby blues reach right into my heart.
He held the thumb of that same hand in his fist cradled close to his chin, along with his other tiny hand. My finger glided across his warm cheek, around his drooping eyes, along the crevices of his double chin, up the sleeve of his shirt, and into his chubby armpit. His body squirmed and his mouth widened before he let out an involuntary guttural laugh.
My baby boy is ticklish, and I found his weak spot.
I let my finger sway in and out of that arm hole, brushing gently against his body, hoping to repeat that sweet new baby laugh. And each time he delivered. I'm telling you, a baby's laugh is so good for the soul.
Now he's wrapped up tightly in his baby burrito, sucking away at his pacifier in his crib. Hopefully I don't hear from him until morning.
I love my babies more that I can handle.
The girlies returned to their fort tonight. We're giving them one more night before they'll need to clean it up.
I'm feeling extra sleepy tonight, but am looking forward to spending time with my new book, The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother , before hitting the pillow. I am so captivated by this book. Hopefully I can keep my heavy eyes awake long enough to read a little. Or a lot...
P.S. I totally said "ticklished" until I met Husband. I never knew I was saying it incorrectly until he pointed it out. And to this day I always feel a little weird saying "ticklish." It just doesn't sound right.
I'm totally a creature of habit, and I don't handle change very well...