wee hands.

oh give me patience when wee hands,
tug at me with their small demands.
and give me gentle and smiling eyes,
keep my lips from hasty replies.
and let not weariness, confusion or noise,
obscure my vision of life's fleeting joys.
so when, in years to come, my house is still,
no bitter memories, it's silence may fill.

i love this poem. it's always in the forefront of my mind when jack hands me the same book time and time again, and i want to say, "REALLY? BROWN BEAR, BROWN BEAR AGAIN?!" i think about how these moments are so precious and will one day be gone, and i oblige him. anything for that sweet smile.

and when he wants to do things himself? i think about these words and let him take his time. because all we have is time, right? someday he won't be here with me. but for right now, he's mine. and i should soak up every little moment i can.

it almost breaks my heart to think about my house being quiet some day in the future. no toys under foot, no books strewn about the living room, no little voice yelling "DADDA? MOMMA? PUP PUP?" but, as the poem concludes, i would much rather the silence be filled with precious memories instead of regrets.