Recently, I’ve been hit by sudden, fierce, overwhelming thoughts about how amazing my boys are. Not that I haven’t always thought that, but I’ve found myself just wanting to smoosh them to me and smother their squidgy little cheeks with kisses until they’re big enough to push me away. Seriously, they are just so delicious.
This one, the inquisitive, talkative, smart little man who made me a mother almost four years ago. He adores Lego and cars, dinosaurs and sharks; he has an imagination to wonder at, and the most remarkable memory. His thirst for knowledge and the way he articulates his thoughts and ideas makes me so proud I could burst. He has taught me so much about parenting, patience and unconditional love.
This one, the cheeky, affectionate, bright little bear who completed our family 20 months ago. He loves animals and books, dancing and music; he loves other toddlers and has a wicked sense of humour. He is continually learning about this big, beautiful world, trying to keep up with his big brother. He has taught me so much about boundless love, priorities and flexibility.
My squidgy boys. I love them.