When he sleeps, so peacefully, his face has that lightness that only a child can have.
Rather than looking deep in sleep, his face looks open, beautiful and full of possibilities.
As a little baby he had the same sleepy pout
and I can't help but want to kiss that face every time I see it.
When he is tired and the blinks become longer and longer,
thumb in his mouth,
I see that precious and helpless little baby that is seems only yesterday I was rocking in my arms.
Now so independent, but still so little.
When he falls, trips or stumbles and only mummy kisses can make it better.
When he asks those questions, those innocent questions
that show how much he has to learn about the world still.
When he wakes up from a nap, he has always taken a while to come round,
and some days we snuggle on the sofa for half an hour,
both with heavy eyes,
enjoying the warmth and comfort,
I am reminded of all those sleeps he had curled up on my chest as a little baby.
When his eyes light up at the simplest of things,
a biscuit, the baubles on a Christmas tree, seeing his Grandma and Grandpa.
The things that become everyday and ordinary after a while
but are still magical when you are two and a quarter.
These moments, they let me remember that tiny baby who depended on me for everything, warmth, nutrition and comfort. I see that beautiful squishy face, the little fingers that curled around mine and those precious tiny baby toes. He may be growing up right in front of my eyes but there are moments where all I see is my little baby boy.