The Tiny One

So here I sit at eleven in the evening doing something that is blasting my brain with all sorts of memories.  For the first time in many, many years, I am holding a sleeping baby that refuses to be placed in her bed.  She is sleeping soundly.  Her even breathing is relaxing to me. I am having sensory overload!  The sweet scent of baby..the sound of her murmurs, gurgles and even breaths..the warmth of her little body against my shoulder..the sight of her tiny fingers as they wrap around mine..all of these things bring back memories of my own children from years ago.  Now I hold my granddaughter.

My son, exhausted from a long day at work, and my daughter-in-law, equally exhausted from the early days of motherhood, are getting some much needed rest.  I know this is not much but every minute counts.  Baby Mary Ruth has not adjusted well to being placed in her bed especially after a day filled with visitors.  She wants the security of someone holding her...so MawMaw holds the wee one.  And MawMaw revels in the time bonding with the tiniest member of the family.  There is plenty of time for her to learn the fine art of sleeping through the night in her own bed.