Body Watch : Times Memories Are Made Of

Dinner’s not ready and the laundry’s not folded, but my baby boy wants to play. His fussing turns to squeals of joy when I plop down in front of him on the floor. Tiny fists flail the air and feet with curled toes buffet the floor in excitement. His toothless smile leaks a little but his bright eyes are a perfect sapphire. I kiss his pudgy face and briefly savor the sweetness of his baby essence. I’m hungry, my clothes are wrinkling, but tomorrow he’ll be kicking soccer balls and wiping away my kisses. So today I play.

--MARGOT GRIFFIN

Westlake Village