I was shopping away in Target, buying up soda in multi-packs like a boss because they were on sale for like under five dollars, which is ridiculous but there it is.
I looked over and there was a young mama pushing her cart and holding a teeny baby over her shoulder.
The baby seemed to be looking at me.
What a beautiful baby, I said.
He was a beautiful baby. He was little and pink, fuzzy on top, bright and shiny and trying to lift his head off of his mom's shoulder with all of his teeny tiny might. He was dressed in only a onesie, that wonderful piece of baby clothing that every mom has hundreds of but somehow when your kids are babies you never have enough of them.
Thanks, she smiled. He was hot, and was screaming in his seat so I just took him out of it. And now, look, he's fine.
How old is he? I asked. Just three weeks, she replied.
I smiled back at her. He's perfect, I said.
She thanked me and I walked on through the store. I remembered when our kids were babies. None of the sleeplessness or frustrating unknowns that fill most days as a new parent came to the surface. Only the memories of the warmth and weight of a little sleeping body, the simple acts of feeding, bathing, dressing, and holding those babies were in my mind. In an instant, tears started to form in my eyes. My throat tightened up a little. Those were such sweet years.
Babies are the best.