Pitter Patter of Little Feet

I love Sunday mornings for a million reasons. I love that Patrick is always home on Sundays, that we get to "sleep in" til 6:30 when Bear gets up, that we always make a big family breakfast, and that we linger in our jammies until it's time to go to church. I guess that's our new Sunday morning tradition. But the best part of Sunday mornings is literally the pitter patter of little feet.

We always know Bear is up because first we'll hear his door creak open, which is followed by these little pitter patters of his feet walking down the hall to our room. When I hear those little feet, I just light up inside, no matter how tired I am. Then he pats us tenderly with his chubby little hands, (or "pets" us, as he calls it), and when we open our eyes he's right there in our face, smiling at us, right at eye level because you know that's just how tall he is, and he says "Good morning Mommy/Daddy!" Of course, Tucker thinks we don't wake up until he reaches our beds, but I'm always up by the crack of his door. But I always lay in my bed like it's Christmas morning, smile on my face but squeezing my eyes shut, because I don't want to ruin his surprise for us. My heart races like I'm about to get the biggest most expensive gift ever and I can hardly stand to keep my eyes shut. When he "pets" me, and says "Good Morning Mommy" and I open my eyes to see his precious face right there, I just melt every time!

I'm so blessed that God picked him for me. I'm hoping his little face and tradition will stay imprinted on my heart for the rest of my life.