John, supported by my hands, picking up each tiny foot and planting it decisively ahead of the other. Stepping his way around the apartment, to our room, the kitchen, the table and chairs. Walking, arms outstretched, to Daddy.
John, exhausted, his warm little head on my shoulder, refusing to sleep. Too much to see.
John, slapping his little hand onto Daddy's upturned palm, giving five and five again.
John, sitting up, a block in each hand, one held to his mouth, the other knocking down towers on the floor as fast as I can build them.
John, mid-diaper change, chewing on his big toe.
John, burying his face in my neck as I pick him up, the tiniest vampire.
John, damp and wrapped in a hooded towel, laughing as I kiss his feet, belly, neck, cheeks. Obediently opening his mouth to have his teeth brushed.
John, nursing, one little hand reaching up to touch my face.
John, peacefully asleep in my arms.