For as frazzled as I sometimes feel with my boys, they can often soften my heart with just a sound.
The other night, the big boys were in trouble for something – probably goofing off instead of cleaning up – and I was seeking refuge by reading Rusty an extra bedtime story. I had chosen a cute little one about the Nativity. I turned to the page that talked about the cow watching over the stable and I hear this drowsy little “moo-OOOOO.” Snuggled in my lap was my precious one year old who was drifting off to sleep, but he had to moo – even emphasizing a second syllable. All I could do was kiss his fuzzy-needs-a-hair-cut-BAD head and be thankful for the moment.
Could he be any cuter?
