When You Need A Hand

Chicklet may be giving my bags under the bags beneath my eyes, and more gray hairs than I want to count, but there are worse things in life than birthing babies who want to be near you 24/7.

Something melt-my-heart worthy that she does? She holds onto my arm with her left hand when she's facing me in the Bjorn. Like she just wants to make sure I'm really there.

Sigh.

Someday, my girls will be teenagers who want nothing to do with me. Remind me of that future--and these cherubic faces when I feel sleep deprived, puh-lease.

:)