Baby Fat

Baby fat. I find it so adorable, so loveable, so beautiful.

I was trying to get some work done the other day. A simple changing of the sheets, putting some laundry away and organizing my somewhat un-orderly bedroom. My youngest daughter was restless and wanted something to do, of course, in keeping with toddler standards, the activity must be in the same room that I am in. I ran to her bedroom and her sister’s and returned with a stack of photo albums. One, not quite full with her photos and three completed albums of my oldest child. (Yes, less time to do things for the second child than for the first…a sad reality)

My restless child quickly flung open the first of her sister’s albums and settled on top of it with great anticipation. She oohed and ahhed over her sister’s newborn snapshots. She kept asking me to confirm if the baby was her or her sister. Once I finished making the bed, I couldn’t keep from peeking over her shoulder to recall memories of those precious moments. Moments that seem so far gone.

My girls were big babies. 9 lbs. 1 oz. and 8 lbs. 15 oz. Yes…large indeed. But they were healthy! Their skin was filled out, nothing saggy on them. They were pleasantly plump, delightfully chunky.

As they grew, I loved to run my fingers over the dimples on their knuckles and knees, and the wrinkles on their wrists. I loved their pudgy toes and feet. They both had thunder thighs and biceps that I found myself holding in my hands and squeezing ever so gently when we cuddled. And cheeks, oh their scrumptious chubby cheeks that I could kiss for hours on end.

Now that 4 ½ years and 2 ½ years have passed, I miss the baby fat. The fat dissolved, and disappeared as they grew, learned to crawl, walk and run. Now they jump, bounce, gallop and skip all day long. They are little people with nice slim figures, each a bit on the tall side for their ages. I love and adore them to no end. They are my favorite people in the world. But I still miss their baby fat. Their adorable…loveable…beautiful…baby fat!