By Sherry Surratt
I’m not sure what captivates me more . . . the spontaneous belly laugh or the drool-mouthed wonder on their angelic face. I can fall in love with a one-year-old faster than they can stink up a room with a saggy diaper. The cherub cheeks and adorable fat thighs draw me in, almost enough to make me overlook their incessantly snotty nose and the jelly they just smeared in their wispy new hair. Almost.
It’s the mess that gets me. Their little fingers are drawn like magnets to anything breakable. The moment their hands become sticky-gooey, an internal signal screams somewhere in their little bodies, “Wipe yourself on something clean and white. Right now.”
Sitting at the dinner table, I see the same look on my granddaughter Mollie’s face that I saw on her daddy’s face so many years ago. It’s the look of curiosity that drives a toddler to snatch and smear, squish, then shriek with delight.
Sweet discovery is what this phase is made of. It’s what makes patience and endurance such prized commodities for the parents of this age
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