On those mornings when everyone is out the door and Sawyer and I are alone with our breakfast, it is quiet.
Lately he shares his thoughts in his two word smiley sentences. Often I bring a stack of books and read to him as it takes him much longer to eat than I and it feels kind of bad to leave him sitting eating by his lonesome while I run around his high chair cleaning and starting my daily to-do list.
So we read. Mostly about farm animals.
My husband and I both grew up on farms and it has taken six children to produce a farmer (maybe? fingers crossed?). Of course we don’t have a favorite child but certainly getting SUPER excited about horses (HORSEY HORSEY HORSEYYYY) and cows (COOOOOWWWW) earns some points.
This morning I read poems. He loved the sing songy rhythm of my voice. Poems are so fun.
They make me think of summer and sunshine and linen aprons and the sandbox and birds dipping against the blue sky.
Someday maybe it will be summer again? Please?
I shall write my own poem about Sawyer:
My littlest boy is a sweet, smiley chap.
He climbs each day for a story on my lap.
He might be spoiled, perhaps just a bit.
But he the youngest and may throw a fit.
So we feed him and hold him
and fill him with love.
Our little Sawyer—a gift from above.