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Yesterday, I stayed home with a sick Simon.
Fever put a slight damper on his usual manic qualities, and he actually sat next to me, allowed himself to be covered with a blanket and watched an entire television show.
It was 20 minutes long, but still! 20 whole minutes of mommy-toddler cocoon, and the best part — the best part! — was that he let me hold his hand and stroke his pudgy little fingers.
I softly ran my fingers over the top of his hand, and I noticed he has a little freckle just at the base of his ring finger.
That freckle just about killed me.
By three years old, I knew every inch of the other two’s bodies. I had stroked, tickled and kissed every part of them. I knew every freckle, mole and blemish.
But even getting Simon to cooperate with a diaper change is difficult. He never sits down long enough to be examined by his mommy’s curious fingers.
Makes me wonder what other cuteness I’m missing.