My aunt gave us a gingerbread kit, so I squished a ton of icing all over that thing and the boys decorated "the fool out of it" as we're fond of saying in my family. Eve was sleeping peacefully, which gave me a chance to click away to my heart's content.
Everyone looks at my littles and declares that Eve favors Micah in her looks. What they don't realize, unless they stroll through our photo albums, is that all my babes looked exactly alike (save for Eve's dark hair). People just look at the three of them, and they assume that my Eve looks like my Micah, because he still has that baby-ness about his features.
But as I watched them build and decorate that little house, I saw something.
Micah is leaving, forever, that chubby-fingered, round-face stage. He's shooting upward, stretching all that sweet baby fat into the features of little boy-dom. His face, at times, looks more and more grown up. And his hands? They are still chubby, baby hands, but they change, ever-so-slightly, every day, and when I look at the pictures I'm forced to realize that his hands are looking more and more like his brother's, like a boy's hands...
Funny to think that someday those hands will be big enough to clasp around my own wizened hands.
...makes me wonder what Mary must have thought when she held Jesus-the-toddler's little hand. The chubby little baby hand of God Himself.
