not yours, they are my own

Just Breathe (Live) - Pearl Jam

I love the way Ethan is so expressive with his hands.

When he's laughing, he'll retract his balled-up fists to his chin. When he's upset, he'll stick his pinkies out of an otherwise closed fist and hold them even with his shoulders. He is constantly swinging his palms around, exploring (and tasting) his fingers and watching his hands open and close. When he is hungry, he is still with his hands and barely lets his limbs move. When he is taking a bubblebath, he will wave his hands up and down, exploring the bubbles with his fingers and causing little droplets of water to splash up onto his face. When we are laying on my bed and singing songs, he is a mess of flailing arms and legs as if he just discovered how to move them and wants to bask in the miraculousness of having control of ones limbs and feeling them fly through the air.


My favorite is when we're playing tummy time and he's holding his head up until something -- the sound of my voice, a cat hopping up onto the bed -- amuses him so much that he erupts into a fit of smiles and coos. He gets so excited that he tries to flail his arms around while they're tucked under his tummy and ends up collapsing onto the blanket, face down on the mattress in defeat. Once he turns his head to the side after his little mishap, he's still smiling. Always, without fail, he is still smiling.