He yells,
"oooooh, oooooh,
duh, duh, duh."
Every now
and then he gets a string
of spit a foot long down
his chin.
He has
very little hair,...if
any.
He can't
talk. Much.
Walk?
Hardly. Though he does
try.
When you
tell him no, he gives you
a smile that would make a
thousand angels sing.
His laugh
is so innocent and so
pure that it truly brings
out the child in any
adult that may be around.
He's
short. Approximatley
three feet tall.
He's bald.
He doesn't
pay rent or utilities.
Though he does like to
use the phone quite a
bit.
........He's
fifteen months old. And
he's my son. My miracle
and truly a miracle
indeed. I would like to
say that he is my miracle
alone. But that would be
pretty selfish.
I will say
that I prayed for a son.
A son for my husband.
Many times
we feel as though Jesus
Christ is too involved in
other matters to be
really concerned with
what we have prayed for.
But He doesn't
forget....and He's not as
far away as we may feel
He is.
.....I
know. I have a fifteen
month old son to prove
it.
