Bliss.

I was writing an annotation on the similarities and differences between two sixteenth century texts and since it made me want to hit my head against a wall, I took a break and turned to looking at these pictures of my feisty little niece, Taytum. My sister-in-law sends "Tots Updates" every now and again (we call her Tots--short for Taytum-Tots, duh) and every picture of her just makes me squeal. 

A few weeks ago, I watched my brother's kids while he and his wife escaped to the city for a few days. The two older kids kept busy playing outside while I spent most of my time with the two youngest. Taytum and I spent the weekend chatting about Ariel, watching Charlie Brown, and she even insisted on feeding her baby brother, Bode, while I cleaned up the kitchen. When I would put Tots down to sleep at night, I would lay beside her as she closed her eyes, twirled her tiny fingers through my hair, and sang "I Am A Child of God" in her raspy little two-year-old voice.

That, my friends, is bliss.

Gosh, I love tiny people. 

I love you a million billion peaches & cream, Miss Taytum Tots.