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I bought B some moccasins to appease my hipster baby. He was so curious about these fringy things on his feet. Poking, prodding and parading these new little shoes. Taking them off to see how they feel between his teeth then trying to put his little cinderella slippers back on.

My heart just swells when I see this bebe. He usually goes to bed fairly early around 6 which leaves a lot of grown up/awake time without baby. It’s great for getting things done, but  after a little bit I start to miss him, like really miss him. Without fail, I end up laying in bed looking at every picture I’ve ever taken of him. I start with the most recent and work my way backwards. Some nights I make it all the way back to his hospital pictures from the day he was born. By that time, my heart is in shambles. A physical ache from the thought of missing that sweet baby. Desperately, I stare at the baby monitor, pining to hear that baby wake up so that I can sweep him away to cuddle me. I think I need the cuddles more than he does. It’s been over a year and I’m still not used to the lonely nights and empty bed. Oh, but I love that tiny human so much that any of my sadness is lifted when he is around.

There’s nothing creeping about the way I love you, bebe. Except for the way I stare at you when you’re sleeping. And that video camera I’ve hidden in your bedroom so I can watch you anytime I want. And the photos, oh the photos, that I take of you when you’re not looking. And how you’re always running through my mind.

Nope, there’s nothing creepy about the way I love you, Beckett.

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