Often, Sundays mean that Matt is away from the apartment from 9 a.m. until about 6 p.m. due to his church responsibilities, but let the record reflect that we had him all to ourselves yesterday until 11:25 in the morning, saw him all through church from 1-4, and then had him back in our kitchen with us helping to prepare paprika chicken stroganoff at 4:25.
It was a Sunday miracle.
So of course, to document the bliss that is having a daddy in the house with a little fuzz head in his arms, we took family pictures on our massive king-size bed that we are still in love with and just lapped up the giggles of the baby dressed in mint and coral, who has the most deliciously roly-poly baby thighs you ever did see.
The messages in church for the last three weeks have been all about making the Sabbath a delight, and yesterday was–we made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, snuggled our friends’ new baby (and chatted about breastfeeding, baby poop, and burping techniques with them for almost two hours), stood around beaming like idiots as Raven charmed an entire row of visiting senior citizens behind us at church with her giggles and drool-smiles, watched two Toy Story movies, and were in bed by 10:30.
Could life get any better than this?
I submit that it could not.