holding hands
Yesterday, after a couple of late nights, we put Lincoln to bed a little earlier than normal, thinking he would fall right asleep. Most naps and nights, we can just lay him down in bed and he goes to sleep on his own (sometimes after a little chatter). But last night he was having a little trouble, so I went in to rock him. He kept trying to grab my mouth to be silly, so I held his hand until he was relaxed. Then I let go. Right away, he grabbed my hand, moved it back to the right spot, and slid his palm against my fingers. I smiled, thinking how rare it is for him to want to be close and still. I'll admit, I tested him once, twice more to see if he would reach for my hand again. And he did. Once, twice more. Already, Lincoln has grown up. We look at him often and, with a sigh, note that he's no longer a baby. He's a little boy. And that's how it should be. Babies are supposed to grow into toddlers, toddlers to preschoolers, and on and on. It's great fun t...
