Red Hot Mutha'

I love the way he dipped his hand in his cup of milk last night at dinner, and told me he was painting as he rubbed it on the table. His fingers made lines in the milk, and he said he was making a rainbow.

I love the way he tells me in the dark that the tiny light on the ceiling from the fire alarm is actually the moon.

I love the way he sounds as he walks into the bedroom at night. (Even at three o'clock in the morning after being awakened by him three times earlier.) His diaper makes soft sounds as he moves toward the bed, and I hear him no matter how deep my sleep.