Leafing through my blog, it transpired that I've not written much about Sunshine. His sister is funnier, she does more noteworthy things. My son is amazing, though. He has been poorly for the last few days, beginning with a throat infection and continuing with a rash, brought on by the aforementioned infection and hindered by heat. He has been cuddly, for the first time since his newborn days, and fallen asleep on my chest. When he was too ill to sleep in his own bed last week, I lay with him in mine and watched him fall asleep, marvelling at the white-blond hair growing beneath his two tone fringe.
He is beautiful.
Just nine months old and I cannot imagine our lives without him.
That is him just minutes after his birth. I remember how it felt to kiss him, he was cool and blueish. I remember the relief that he was alright; we had done it, we had our longed-for son.
He didn't disappoint.
I love the things he does, even those that scare me, like when he climbs the stairs if someone leaves the gate open.
I love how his chuckle spills out of him like a fountain.
I love his giant smile, and the tantrum he had yesterday evening when he wanted to draw with Mini but couldn't.
I love our son, he is brilliant, irreplaceable and the most beautiful boy since his dad.