It was warm and sunny on Maddux's birthday, so we went outside in our shirtsleeves to soak up some vitamin D. Dean ran ahead, Jude slept slung to my chest, and Maddux
held my hand.
For the past two years Maddux has been the baby. I balanced him on my hip, Dean held my hand and we intrepidly ventured out and about. He started walking at 13 months, running last summer, but if I intended to get anywhere alive, not lost, and timely-ish then I held him. Even at one of Jude's early doctor check-ups I had to resort to carrying a car seat in one arm and Maddux in the other. Would he ever just be able to walk with me and not run nilly willy here, there, everywhere?
Yes, we're getting there. The shadow on the grass of the chubby little arm attached to mine showed me that. And I remembered that it was the same with Dean before Maddux. It seems as if right up until the next baby the previous one is glued to my hip soaking up all their babyhood.
My sweet baby Maddux Ray is two. He has ginormous smiles, and torrential tantrums. He is oh so vociferous, although unintelligible--unless you understand...whatever language it is that he shouts. Heaven help anyone who tries to change his course, or his shirt, or put on his shoes, or take them off.....But his happiness is exuberant, his laughs and hugs and wet kisses melt my insides.
Dean is his favorite person to play with and to bite. And oh those bites.....lightning fast with piranha force.
He looks like his daddy. They make the same expressions. Sometimes I make Maddux laugh, just so I can see Luke's smile.
So here's looking forward to his year of two. A year of holding hands, aaaand chasing him down, because he will run off. Yep, he will. And I will find him, kiss his chubby cheeks, and man-handle him back to my side. Amid screams of protest, because he is two. Good thing he is irresistibly cute.
