Past Posts

March 06, 2012

Our little fucking angel.

Sometimes Jessica and I will lay in bed and revel in how pure and wonderful Lewis is. He's essence of boy, of childhood. You can drink him in. He'll snuggle, he'll sing made up songs as he runs naked through the house leaving a trail of joy, and if you make a mistake and yell at him he curls up like a rolly polly and hides and cries. And when he cries he wails. His feelings run through him water through a faucet. When I come home from work he always trots up and chants, "Papa Papa Papa" and gives me a wonderful dancing hug. The other night Jessica turned to me, amazed, and said "He's just a fucking angel."

2 comments:

Dr Em said...

he wears his heart on his sleeve, just like his mama. He's so pure!

à la bob said...

Ain't no one like Lewis. I'm proud to be his great-uncle, and prouder to be his mom's uncle!

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