Eliot is sprawled out in his bassinet while I sit in bed grading. All of my classwork is done, just gotta finish up grading my Engl 100 students' work for the week. Sunday nights are always late, but I am relieved to not be going into work early tomorrow morning or tomorrow at all or any other day either. And I am kind of proud of myself for this week's school work. It is the first class I've taken since Eliot has been born. Not that long ago, but still it is always hard to adjust with a new routine. For a while there, I had Eliot laying across my lap, the laptop balancing on my knees, as I stretched over him to type. It was all a comical image, I'm sure, but Chris rescued me as he took a break from his work.

Yesterday when we went to see Chris's grandma, we made a stop at Starbucks on the way. I sat in the backseat with Eliot (who had begun to cry) in the parking lot as Chris ran in to get a coffee. I put his paci back in his mouth and he stared at me with those eyes. Those Christopher eyes. I offered my finger and held on tight.

As silly as it sounded, I whispered, "I'll always be here to hold your hand, Baby." And with a pause and a quite thought, I added, "There will come a day when you won't want me to hold your hand anymore, but I'll still be here." And it's true; I know he won't want to be a mama's boy forever and I'm sure he'll be so incredibly embarrassed by my overly-nurturing tendencies.

But I hope that everything I can give to him will make him into a happy, strong, healthy boy with a compassionate, generous heart that grows angry when he sees injustice. I'm thankful that he will see his father so willing to give. I've seen him give complete strangers food, gas for their cars, bus tickets, twenty dollar bills, and so on and then pray with them. I hope Eliot will grow to have that same heart.