buddies.

My older boys are each other's buddies, but not mine. No, no- Here is my buddy:

The olders may not realize it, but there was a time when they were each my buddy. Then the magical day arrived where candles atop a cake were blown out and within weeks they were running. And their chubby legs carried them away to corners where they huddled together, brothers sharing secrets that I will never understand, like why it is so hilarious to spill milk and then make liquid pictures on the hardwood floor until Mama walks in and shrieks.

For now, though, I have my buddy.... My tiny, precious one who teases me with 20-minute naps. When I try to lower him into his swing so I can sneak off to the bathroom (please, I've been holding it all morning!), his eyes flutter open quickly and he gives me the biggest grin. "Oh, you weren't going to leave me here, were you?" his shiny eyes ask amusedly. I scoop him up again and kiss his neck and let my hand gently cradle his warm head. Of course not, Buddy.

I have conversations to look forward to with this little one, nighttime chats in his dim bedroom with his books spread all around him on the comforter. Today, though, we are a small, quiet island around which his big brothers swirl loudly and animatedly, rocking slowly in the recliner and dreaming of candles atop cakes.