I'm Relishing

I love the word RELISH. Isn't it a great word? According to Mr. Webster it means to have enjoyment of or delight in something that satisfies one's tastes, inclinations, or desires. I've found great joy in being a mom these last few weeks because of an interesting point that Elder Ballard brought up last Conference:

"If a child lives with parents for 18 or 19 years, that span is only
one-fourth of a parent’s life. And the most formative time of all, the early
years in a child’s life, represents less than one-tenth of a parent’s normal
life."

My children are growing at an exponential rate. And although I think it's incredibly unfair, I'm relishing the love that my super-cuddler Josh gives me, watching Andrew get lost in his imaginary play, and sneaking into the boys' room several times each evening just to watch them snore.

Randy and I agree that Josh is at his peak cuteness. He's walking all over the place, just jibber-jabbing along in his own Ewok-like language. He's easy to smile and he can turn me into absolute mush when he giggles. He's really good at banging his head on something or falling down-my heart has stopped more times in the past 6 months with Josh than it ever did in the last 4 years with Andrew. He's added "car" to his repertoire, and he seems more interested in looking at the pictures when I read to him. He loves his Grandma-when she comes around, he wants nothing to do with me. He has this fake laugh/giggle that he does when he gets really excited about something or when he's getting into something he shouldn't be.


Andrew tells me that he doesn't want to grow up, that he just wants to stay little; but wakes up at night several times a week complaining that his feet hurt from growing pains. He's already in 5T pants-he's got his dad's monkey arms and legs. I love the way he smiles for the camera:

Here he is proudly displaying his farm animals that he colored from preschool. He loves coloring. His one red crayon has been wittled away into a tiny stub. If only they made red-only boxes of crayons. He can write his name all by himself and I think he's going to take after his dad's freakish number-crunching abilities.