Those little chubby fingers fumbling with the smallish buttons of my brown sweater. You learning to become big. So much faster than I remember with your bigger brothers. Because of your brothers. In a hurry to catch up.
You sat in my lap. "To keep you warm," you tell me as you work. "Come on, come on," you urge as you patiently push the buttons through the small holes. Eyes sparkling with concentration. A bit of tongue on your lip. Tell tale signs of hard work in our home.
But you never break with frustration. Just patience and the need to conquer this small achievement. I marvel and watch you learn. Loving these quiet, important moments.
These are the moments that tug at my heart. When I gasp at the thought, the miracle of three. That these moments might never have happened. But they have. Are. And will. Surreal. And so precious. I cling to these tiny minutes that might pass unnoticed elsewhere. But not here. In my heart.