Little moments

It's the little moments I want to hold on to.

Seeing Luke in a distance -- so earnest it makes me burst into laughter -- flailing at imaginary butterflies with a blue butterfly net, running so fast in the grass in bare feet, his fine hair blowing in the wind. Catching nothing but the wind. 

Seeing the other one dissolve into giggles the second his feet find their balance in the bounce house. Taking three wobbly steps before a face-plant, which he finds hysterical, cracking up into the red plastic, smearing it with wet baby slobber.

The way J.J. holds his mouth wide open for five seconds before bobbing his head down around a tiny plastic straw, wanting to be sure it makes it in there.

The way Luke grumbles at J.J. when he's frustrated with him, crowding him and grabbing him loosely around the head or body. But never, ever hurting him. 

The way J.J. calls everything Mama. The fridge. A banana. Other people. But mostly, the way he says it to me.

The way Luke falls asleep in the car, one leg tossed over the side of the car seat, his head tucked down onto his shoulder, quiet snores sneaking out from his mouth.  And then the way he denies it so vehemently, "No, Mama, I did NOT sleep in the car. No, no, no." Luke never sleeps in the car. (Except when he does.)

The march upstairs to go wake up Dada around 9 a.m., one following after another, both wearing dinosaur pajamas, me singing a marching song with glee: "Let's go wake up DADA! Let's go wake up DADA!" The way they fall all over him in the bed, and the way he grabs onto them to make sure they don't fall off the bed as they roll over him. Sunlight coming in the windows.

Hold onto the little moments. Aren't they so beautiful?

If you're game, share one in the comments. And Happy Mother's Day to all you moms.