I think of my four-year-old little dirt-magnet Shakira, cruising the rocky driveway on her bicycle with Dave, the kindergarten chicken, holding tight to the handlebars. Beautiful, dirty Shakira, with the sun shining through her white curls, has always had that light-shimmering smile that brings me so much joy.
When Iver was a toddler, thrilled and obsessed with dinosaurs, he very often roamed the earth in velociraptor stance. Tiptoes, some bizarre, two-fingered hand position and loud, warped growl-sounds permeated my days. It all became quite humorous the day he, in said stance, bit his Grandma J. on the butt. Iver's twisted humor began at birth, and has always brought me joy.
Thankful that 22 years ago, Corbin looked at me with such gentleness and love, through those fabulous pointy-down eyelashes of his. He still looks at me that way. And his older, softened features continue to thrill me after all of this time. Crazy-thankful.