Isaac

I am so happy I have a son. I can't wait till he's three, and wearing little blue jean overalls, old enough to finger-paint and take walks with me. Old enough to sit in my lap and listen to me read. But three months is good, too. I love looking down at the shape of his head while I am holding him, the swirls his red hair makes, his round cheeks and barely-there eyebrows, his button-nose and wide blue eyes, the funny shape of his upper lip and the dimples he gets when he smiles. I even adore the way he sticks out his bottom lip when he begins to cry, like a narrow ledge to catch the tears. Three months is good, and it came so fast.