All in a Saturday's Work

I chase you down; you are covered in peas, I am covered in peas. 

We roll back and forth on the bed, and you plant kisses on my cheeks, lifting your rosebud mouth to my face.

You bang the block against the bowl.

You crawl the length of the living room, crying, your pacifier clutched in your hand. 

I pick you up and you lay your damp cheek against my shoulder, stick the pacifier in your mouth. 

We sway to your lullabies. We all live in a a yellow submarine.  Your eyes grow heavy, the fringe of your lashes brushing your cheeks.  

I lean forward and kiss you. I whisper, "I love you," and your eyes flutter open for just a moment, your lips pull back in a smile, and with a sigh, you are dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

Snack

The last few weeks have been busy, impossible, insane. I ended one job yesterday, and I begin a new one tomorrow (more on that soon).

In other news, Alice has started crawling, and Spiceboy and I spend every waking second chasing her across our tiny apartment, prying forbidden objects from her tiny, sticky hands.

I've also started giving her Cheerios, more as a distraction than anything else, as the Cheerios usually wind up on her bib or stuck to her bottom rather than in her mouth.

Tonight as I was putting Alice down for bed, she rolled onto her side with a sweet little sigh, exposing the back of her chubby thigh. Stuck to it was a lone Cheerio.

I leaned over her for a few moments, as I always do, just listening to her breathe. Then I kissed the top of her head, plucked the Cheerio ever-so-gently from her thigh, and popped it into my mouth.