Like a Sunday Afternoon

Like the hours of a slow Sunday afternoon

The days of my little gal's babyhood are quickly slipping into something, more grown up.

I try and slow down and soak in these fleeting, sweet moments.

The way she looks in a winter hat


or the squeal that escapes her lips when she sees a giraffe, or a horse.


The way she looks at me in the middle of the night when all is quiet and it's just mom and baby alone in the world.


These are the things I'd like to hold onto.