I have had a post about taking my then 10-month-old to Scotland all ready to go for over a month now, but when I went in to do some final editing, the thing was gone without a trace, and since my brain has turned to post-partum sludge in the last 1+ years, I couldn't remember a word of it to recreate it. That's too bad, since I have the impression that it was a really sweet post. Oh, well, I guess that's a sign that it wasn't meant to be.
Thinking about him did get me thinking about the valuable lesson I learned the first time I walked into a room with my pregnant belly leading the charge. That belly got attention. For the rest of my life, I would no longer be the most popular kid in the doorway. My baby boy had taken center stage, which, when I reflect on it, I totally get; first he was this hidden miracle of creation that everybody couldn't wait to see in person. After he was born he got even cooler. He became 3-D helpless and adorable, making all these wonderful squeaks, grunts and coos. He was also squishy soft and after a bath, smelled like pure sunshine. And don't get me started about the smell of baby-head. Ann Lamott wrote in her book, Operating Instructions, that her son, Sam, smelled like God. Not like a god, but like the God. Who could compare to that? I'm certainly not stupid enough to try.
Considering how irresistable and popular that boy is, I feel a bit sorry for many of you. I don't write a whole lot about my son on here. That unfortunately means that some of you who may be visiting the site every now and again are not getting what you probably came for. *shrug* No apologies on this end. The interweb is too open for me to like sharing pictures and updates on him, here. Check out FB if you want to catch a glimpse of Sir Yumminess. He's the main event over there. Or come over to my house. He's even better in technicolor.
Until you can hug him in person, I wish you all well and I wish you love.