what a small gentleman does

This little man is bolting for toddlerdom.  He's got teeth popping out all over the place, a perma-drooly-grin, and a penchant for trying to stand on his own.  Stairs are finally mastered both up and down (usually) and he loved his first taste of garlic recently when I caved and let him try the cauliflower soup I'd made for dinner (it was a pureed soup, no choking hazards, just a whole lot more flavor than he usually gets).



He is so defiantly happy.  Sometimes he overwhelms me with his loveliness.  It is hard to stay hurt or frustrated or forlorn when he looks at your unhappy face and giggles like mad.  I ought to be loaning him out for this benefit.



I find that between Mr Renn and myself we have inexcusable penchants for taking ourselves too seriously.  I thank God quite regularly for sending us the perfect children to remind us to have fun and be kinder to ourselves. There are thousands of opportunities to laugh and romp and squish little faces every day.  I waste most of them, but I catch enough to remind my heart that I'm part of a great work in this little borrowed house of ours.  Something so marvelous that my brain doesn't even try to comprehend it, and gets silly and forgets half the time.  But I can sometimes be grateful if not wise.