The Baker Galleries

Originally uploaded by bgallery

Ah, the salad days. The peak of one’s life. When you can eat with your hands, smear blueberry pancakes on your face, and command the undying adoration of your fellow diners for both. Not to mention the small fan club of animals that have gathered at your feet in the event you decide they are worthy to share your bounty.

But these aren’t your salad days, little man. In fact, if it not for the embarrassing volume of photographic evidence to document this era, you may not remember them at all. But I can tell you, my darling Jude, they are ours. Your father and I watch in awe as you grow by leaps and bounds every day. We exchange smiling glances as you run chattering through house. And I am practically reduced to tears when you wrap your arms around a towering Atticus and say simply “hi”. You have softened me, little man. Who am I kidding? You have completely flattened me. With your smirk, your wrinkled nose, your unrestrained laughter, the way you say “rabbit”, and the feel of your sweet warm arms gripping tightly around my neck. You are my present day nostalgia, a little slice of salad. Every day.