I was lying next to Henry at naptime and feeling very open and all-loving and just reveling in the deep reverence I feel for being able to participate in the lives of these little beings. I have to say, when I smell Henry’s neck, it is poetry. That baby smell, that rose petal soft skin, pure bliss. I held him close and started to sing a soft sweet lullaby to him. “With a sweet soft voice…” “Momom,” he said, “Stop singing that song. It make me sick.”
Ok, I guess that’s succinct.
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