Logan and I had just finished our lunch of quesadillas, yogurt, pureed veggies (ok, maybe I didn't have that), raisins, and peaches. I gave him a graham cracker to round off his meal and got myself one of the truffles from Tyson that I've been hoarding since our anniversary.
And Logan and I leaned back in our respective chairs and enjoyed our sweet treats in a beautiful silence.
Or at least silence plus the sound of an 11-month-old chewing a cracker. Close enough. We looked at each other and smiled and I reveled in our shared joy.
Then Logan threw his sippie cup on the floor and life began again.
I've been trying to focus on these moments as we're entering a stage of fits and tantrums. He doesn't understand why I won't let him crawl down the stairs, play with scissors, or stick his finger into a socket (don't worry, I bought plug covers).
It's become a new adventure of trying to understand each other, through mostly trial and error, and enduring to the end.
On a positive note, I have never appreciated the blessing of naptime as much as I do now.