Cinnamon and Cream

I’ve been spending more time cuddling with Jack lately. Sometimes he comes scratching at our door in the morning and asks to crawl into bed and get warm under the covers. At other times we are on the couch under a blanket while watching his shows (usually Ben 10 or Scooby Doo). Most recently we’ve been snuggling up in his bed while I read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets to him before bed. I read until his eyelids droop, then I turn out the light and we have our goodnight snuggle.

Jack has always had gorgeous skin. It’s smooth and, except for a mole by the bridge of his nose and a small scar under his eye where he scratched himself as a baby, a flawless shade of ivory. He has the same beautiful skin as my dad and sister.

I always look at him out of the corner of my eye while we read or snuggle. I examine the curve of his long, full lashes and the slight cleft in his chin. I wonder if the cleft will stay just barely noticeable as he ages. My gaze slides over the childish curve of his cheek and the cheekbones that look so like mine.

Lately freckles are starting to dot his nose and cheeks, as well. They are tiny, dainty, like a dusting of cinnamon on top of cream.

I wish I could capture it in a picture, but there is no way Jack would allow it. I mentioned his freckles to him recently and he scowled at me and declared that he didn’t have freckles! I told him that I think freckles are beautiful, but that I understand – I was once young, too, and hated my freckles.

I hope I get a long, long time to appreciate those freckles. I hope he grows to appreciate them, too.

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