As I sat this morning, with an overly-tired toddler, I found myself scanning his every feature while he greedily gulped down his overdue bottle. I found a stray hair here, a remnant piece of breakfast there, and then…there, on the creamy-white skin of his chubby little forearm, a speck, a tiny dot that would not be wiped away no matter how much I licked my thumb.
For a brief moment, I felt concerned and worried by the appearance of the little brown circle…then my mind drifted back over the busy week and the moments we spent going for long walks or sharing snacks with friends at the sun-drenched tables by the river. In his new-found contentedness, his perfectly plump fingers brushed lightly against my own arm, and I glanced in that direction where I saw several little specks scattered about. Of course he’ll have freckles! I thought to myself. After all, he is his mother’s son. \
I’m constantly amazed by the little way the lens of motherhood magnifies even the smallest detail.