Saturday Afternoon

Words are not enough to describe my Saturday afternoon. And that’s saying a lot from a librarian. But you need to see it—the chubby cheeks, the rubber band arms, the buckets of drool.

We spent the day at the pool. And I’m not sure there’s much that makes me swoon more than rugged, manly men holding chunky, lumpy babies.

Wesley Michael. And his big blues.

Kyndall William. And the drool. Rivers of drool. A single tooth is now officially poking through his itchy gums. Hence the tongue.

And who’s this? Emma Grace. The unofficial girlfriend to the twins. With her long lashes and deep brown eyes. Delicate. Sweet.

See her two teeth?

Brandon told me tonight that he thinks Jenelle has gotten more beautiful since having the twins. That there’s some glow, some underlying grace in her demeanor as a new mother. Sigh. She’s just gorgeous. Can you tell how much she loves them?

Can I just bury my face in those cheeks? Can I? Please.

But this one is perfect. A boy and his grandma. A boy and his grandma’s kisses.

And then there’s this. Please notice Brandon’s face. Then please notice Wesley’s face. Somethings up. What is it, boys?

Now do you see my point? How could I describe this? It just wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

I love Saturday afternoons. I really do.