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![]() | Sarah G's Diary EntriesDiary Navigation: |
August 5, 2001
A couple days ago, we were eating spaghetti for supper. I was eating at the computer ('cause it's the easiest chair to nurse Logan in and eat at the same time) and Mom was sitting in one of the easy chairs. Jake was happily eating his spaghetti at the table. (Jake loves spaghetti.) Suddenly Mom and I realize that he's awfully quiet. So I turn and look at him. And he's actually falling asleep, sitting upright in the big wooden chair. Kinda like how people fall asleep on busses, slumped a bit, with his head back and jaw hanging open. He would start to slide a bit to the left, then jerk himself back to center, and fall asleep again. Awww! His face and hands were covered in spaghetti sauce. :) So I gently scoop him up (he briefly opens his eyes), and carry him to bed. Once there, I wiped him off with a washcloth. He woke up for a minute or so a while later, and gave me a chance to do a better cleaning job, then went back to sleep.
I think one of my most favorite things in the whole widest world is this: Logan, Jake and I were in bed. Jake was already asleep. I had the light on, as I was trying to read a bit before going to bed. Logan was nursing. He’s just learning to open and shut his hands and to reach for things. So, we’re lying there nursing, and he has one hand on my chest. His hand is open, and I think he was trying to grab a button or a bit of pattern on my shirt or something, but he wasn’t quite coordinated enough, and not trying very hard. He ended up with his middle finger (the longest one) touching me, and slowly swinging his ring finger back and forth, barely brushing me. It was the most precious thing I’d ever seen, and there is very little possibility that my inadequate description is enough to convey the sheer beauty of it. I lay there and watched his little hand, with the third finger moving back and forth, with a goofy helpless grin on my face for the longest time, until he moved his hand away. It’s stuff like that that are the reasons why I breastfeed.
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