I'm telling ya, I'm in love with my children's legs lately.
It's not abnormal for me to be addicted to one or two certain parts of my children's little frames for an extended amount of time. And it's pretty much a given that you'd seem me chewing, squeezing, or kissing my favorite for that moment. Some days it's their fingers, most days it's their ears, but lately...their legs.
It started a few nights ago while I was tucking Luke in with a bedtime book. Julia and I joined him atop his Charlie Brown Cowboy sheets--the sheets that used to pass back and forth between my two younger brothers' rooms, and have since been passed to little Lukers--reading Spot Bakes a Cake for the third night in a row. We were all laying on our backs, knees in the sit-up position, when I noticed how short and stout my little man's thighs were.
For stinkin' cute!!!
How is it that his thighs have gone unnoticed for so long? The last time I really remember taking a good long look at them was moments after his entrance into this world. Now here it is, 2 years later and they're still there. And sturdy as can be.
Then yesterday while we played in the front yard, I noticed these same stouty elements on Norah. Cute as cucumbers, those legs of hers. And, I'm sure she'd completely agree while she looks at photos like this one, 15 years from now.