But as both boys sat there cutting with their special scissors and making art out of their jagged paper clippings, I had one of those please remember this forever moments.
Hoping my mind would take a permanent photograph of this very scene, with their messy hair, chubby hands turning into big-boy hands. Noah is still learning to write his name and someday he’ll be writing on fuzzy, pink construction paper & glue-sticked Mother’s Day cards to me. Then one day he’ll be writing essays. Maybe songs. Maybe important documents or papers or a revolutionary theory that will change our world.
I want to always remember him cutting crooked along the dotted lines.
The table was a mess … but I loved it.