I miss babies.

I miss babies. Aidan isn't a baby anymore; he's close to four years old now, more little boy than baby. He is so much fun, and he is so cute, but it just isn't the same.
I miss making silly faces and seeing that goofy baby-smile. I miss putting my hand on the small chest and feeling a tiny heartbeat. I miss the little hands banging tunelessly on the piano keys and watching the entire body wriggle and dance in sheer delight at the music.
I miss playing peekaboo with someone who genuinely wonders where I am when my hand is covering my face. I miss seeing life in miniature, knowing that that wobbly little sack of jelly who can barely sit up straight without falling over is a little person with thoughts and feelings. I miss that special baby smell, and the round, soft head. I miss rocking gently in a sleepy rhythm and seeing the eyes close ever so slowly. I miss zipping up the tiny body inside a pair of silly-looking footie pajamas. I miss having the life choked out of me by a curious baby who wants to eat my necklace. I miss wet, drooly, sloppy kisses all on my favorite shirt. I miss changing stinky diapers and catching spit-up in my hand.
But I think the thing I miss the most is just knowing that there is life and love inside that small, funny-looking morsel of humanity; knowing that, even though he may think kind of fuzzily, that little baby loves you just because you are there. He misses you when you are gone, and he laughs in sheer ecstacy when you smile at him. I think that is one of the most precious things about being an older sister, and, as I say, I miss it so much. But I am more blessed than I realize: to have experienced the delight of a new life seven times over is truly fantastic! I think that there are not many in this age who can say that their lives have been as full as mine.
You know something? I do miss babies, but I think brothers and sisters are like fine cheese -- they just get better and better as they age.


;-)
Andrea