Stairs

For several weeks, my darling Jane has insisted on walking down the stairs like a "big girl", steadied only by my hand, the wall or the rail.

However, yesterday, as we started our descent following afternoon naps she rounds on me as I offer her my only free hand (Elliot was on my hip).

"Brudder's hand hold," she declared to me.

Confused, I tried to offer my hand again, for there is no way Elliot could support her.

But she insisted, grasping at the air with her little hand as she felt for her brother's hand, which, in turn, was reaching for Jane.

I got all choked up as we slowly (and a bit awkwardly) descended. Elliot just kept is adoring gaze on Jane.

And I thought -- despite the fact that it isn't a complete day until I'm sure the neighbors believe I am conducting some kind of ancient forms of torture within the walls of my home (from the screams) -- I wouldn't trade anything in the world for this stage of life.

It is filled with the open-mouth, slobber kisses. With profuse "dank you"s all the day long. With giggles and simple games of hide-and-seek. And always, always, little heads resting on my shoulder and little arms flung around my neck as I carry them off to bed.