I have my baby nephew snuggled against me. He is milk drunk and smiling. 2 months old on Christmas day and just as sweet as a baby can be. His little fuzzy head rubs against my chin and he sighs a contented sigh. My heart melts a little bit more as he wraps me around his tiny pinkie finger.
Slowly he drifts off to sleep to dream of milk, soft sleepers and gentle kisses. The utter bliss on his face makes me want to go back and be an infant again.
His hands are balled up, one on either side of his face, the tiny nails shining in the glow of the Christmas lights on the wall. I kiss him once more and lie him down for his midday’s nap.