Impossible

He is sitting up in his crib, warm and snuggly and bleary-eyed from his sleep.  He reaches his hands up to me as I lift him up and hold him close.  His head nestles onto the perfect spot on my shoulder, his arms reach around me and squeeze.  I inhale the warm toddler smell of his hair and skin, feel the perfect weight of him resting securely in my arms, and I think it is impossible that I could love him any more than I do right now, at this moment.

He is running down our long hallway, chasing the dogs and screaming joyfully!  His shoes make a delightful pitter-patter on the floor, his face is all huge smiles and bright eyes.  He runs over to me, inviting me to join in his fun, and I think it is impossible that I could love him any more than I do right now, at this moment.

We are having a rough day.  I tell him it's time for a diaper change, and he runs away.  I scoop him up to carry him downstairs, and he cries, yelling out his frustration and taking it out on me by biting my shoulder.  Cole! I say...but when I look at his face I can see he already knows he shouldn't have and is sorry.  His eyes are filling with tears and his tender mouth is trembling.  He kisses my shoulder gently, apologetically, then looks at me, mutely asking for forgiveness.  I lay his head on my shoulder and hold him tight so he knows I still love him, I will ALWAYS love him.  He wraps his little arms around me just as tight, and we sit on the bottom stairs just holding each other for a while.  I think it is impossible that I could love him any more than I do right now, at this moment.

He is intently playing in his sandbox, stacking his toys at one end and filling bottles with sand carefully.  He is oblivious to my observing, enthralled in his play.  I sit watching him, marveling at his ability to use his fingers so dexteriously, to manipulate his toys, to be so still and so absorbed.  He looks up suddenly, sensing my gaze, and gives me the starry-eyed smile I love so much.  I think it is impossible that I could love him any more than I do right now, at this moment.

Daddy is home from work.  Cole screams in excitement, "DADDA! DADDA!" and expresses his thrill by his trademark happy feet dance.  I watch Chris scoop him up in his arms, holding him tight for loving hug, then transitions right into high-energy wrestling and playing without even taking off his coat.  The high-pitched squeals and giggling from Cole are almost as loud as Daddy's laughing, expressing his pure joy of spending time with his son. 

I know it's impossible to love them both any more than I do right now, at this moment.