I had a moment at story time today. It's a moment I've had many times before and one I'm sure to have again. Only this time it ended a little bit differently...
It's the moment where I look down at the adorable boy laying his soft baby feather head on my lap and smiling up at me with that gappy toothed smile and realize HE is the most perfect child in the entire room.
The way he pulls himself up to standing just so he can hug my neck. And claps at the end of each song and story. The way his huge beautiful blue eyes take it all in, all the time. You can almost see him cataloging information as he stares and stares and blinks and stares.
The way he gets a little scared of high-fiving Library Pete and turns his face toward my chest. And dances to the music and smiles at pretty ladies and pats my arm. I swell with pride and love over and over again and feel overwhelmed by his cuteness and perfection.
And then I start to feel guilty. I glance awkwardly around the room at all the other parents and wonder if it's hard for them to be there with their children when MINE is so clearly the best. But then I stare a little longer (Finny gets it from me) and I notice they're not looking at me and my perfect boy. They're looking at their babies. But they're seeing them just the way I see mine.
A dad helps his little girl stand up without holding on and beams with pride when she lets go of his hands.
A mom gives her newborn baby an extra tight squeeze when Mary Mary sings What a Wonderful World.
Big hands help little hands clap to the beat while the parents with bigger kids sing all the words to all the songs.
And every mommy and daddy at story time feels oh-so-lucky as we look at our children, our PERFECT children, and realize OURS are the best in the whole wide world.