Disclaimer: How I wish the boys were mine. But nope, they belong to someone else.
Thanks to Heinz-Lee for checking this story.
Read and review please?
Looking down at my fifth baby boy I can't help remembering the four baby boys I had before him. I can still see their little faces with those curious eyes; Always looking this way and that.
I remember what each and every one of their cries sounded like. The way they started to talk their baby talk when they were happy, telling their daddy about their day, as only babies can.
I can't help smiling as little Alan try's to put my finger in his mouth; they all tried that before, even my quiet middle baby boy, John. John is five years old now. I can't help calling them all my babies, although they aren't babies anymore.
Each of my boys will do something great one day, I know they will, I have this gut-feeling about them all.
Little Johnny is at the window again, watching the birds as they fly around in our garden. My quiet little boy, always watching, always listening.
My three other babies come looking for me. Giving them all a one armed hug as they pass me to stand by the window with their brother. I also allow little Alan to give them a wet baby hand to shake.
Looking at each of my boys, I can't help wishing that they are still those little babies I held in my arms just yesterday, when all of them came into the world.
I remember each one fondly. Scott, bossing everyone around from the moment he gave his first cry. Virgil, my piano baby, I remember him moving while I played the piano, as if he wanted to play with me. Then he would drift off again. He's always been a heavy sleeper. John always observed the world around him, from the first moment he opened his eyes. I swear he has laser eyes, sometimes. He always sees things others miss. Gordon, now what can I say about my redhead baby? Put him near water and you'll have to fight tooth and nail to get him out again. He's also full of surprises; you'll never know what he's hiding in his hands. Finally, there's baby Alan. He's fussy and moody when you least expect it, he loves speed. His Daddy always turns around in a circle, making my head spin - I always fear that he'll trip and fall or that Alan will vomit when he's Daddy stops turning. Alan wants me to do it, too, but I am too cautious to attempt it.
Bouncing Alan on my hip, I smile when he squeals with delight; at least I'm doing something right today. My other babies must have read my mind, somehow, because the next thing I know, they are all holding their sides as they laugh at me, causing Alan to squeal even louder. If things go on like this, I'm sure that I'll be deaf before I'm sixty.
I'll always be there for my baby boys, to love and protect them; that is a promise.
