It’s OK, really, that he has had 7 colds in 9 months and that his face is often snotty and goobery.
It doesn’t bother me that he expresses his love to me by yanking at my hair and poking at my eyes.
It’s OK that I have a hard time getting anything done because his favorite place to be is perched on my hip or cradled in my arms.
It doesn’t bother me too much that this morning as I was trying to get ready he unrolled toilet paper and paper towels.
It’s OK that he pooped a googly eye (although it scared me to death).
It doesn’t bother me too much that he gets mad when I try to sneak his mushy vegetables under a sweet layer of fruit.
It’s OK that I have to stand vigilant guard over bowls of dog food and dog water.
It doesn’t bother me too much that he still wakes up at night craving milk and warm arms.
It’s all OK because I love him.
Because his smile has lit up my world.
Because he has filled to overflowing a Jack-shaped hole in my heart that I didn’t even know existed with buckets and buckets of fierce, beautiful, precious love.
I love you, little guy. I can’t believe you’re 9 months old.
(I don’t know how many of you click the link to our family’s blog on my blogroll, but if you haven’t checked it out in the past few weeks, Matt posted his favorite pictures of 2007. I think it’s the 3rd post down.)