I mean, since Max is our first baby, I guess we always expected him to stay little. Yet here we are, twenty-one months and one day after his birth and he's growing like a weed in size, vocabulary, understanding, and hilarity. He is a tall, sturdy boy and puts other firecrackers to shame with his independent antics. I have wanted to be a mom ever since I was a little girl. If I had to choose between photography and mommyville, I would choose being a mom in a nanosecond. I love running around barefoot with my little boy. I love cooking him (and his dad!) dinners and keeping his room clean and giving his soft little belly tickles and squeezing his fat little thighs. I love hearing him squeal "ball!", "mine!", and "no!" every five seconds, especially when it's followed by a sly smile, an announced body part, and a little finger tugging and said body part. I love him, through and through. He is the baby that made me a mom. He is the child that completely changed our world. The blonde haired, blue eyed, fair skinned boy I never imagined I would have. The sunflower to our blue skies and the best apple in the orchard. We adore him.
Back to his dad. Andrew is a better person than me and I love him for that. He is more faithful, more concerned, more supportive, and exactly the kind of partner I always hoped I would eventually have. I am a lucky girl and, some days, especially on days where he's in Fayetteville, Arkansas working and I'm in Lee's Summit, Missouri taking a mini-vacation, it's good to remember: My husband rocks.
PS. Today me, Max, and my mom watched a snake eat a giant frog. Max was spellbound. It was gross.