I have a really hard time on my days off, home alone. That's when I really feel him missing. Holding him in front of the over-the-stove mounted microwave, counting down the seconds together while his milk gets warmed. He'd get so excited when it went down into single digits, eyes wide and smiling while he learned numbers. He was getting so heavy.
I had my routine down, flipping on the Keurig, taking the knives and forks quietly out of the dishwasher while Noah was still distracted by Sesame Street. When he heard any clinking sounds, he'd come running in and he'd be in charge of taking all the spoons out. "Good job!" I'd say after every spoon. I loved that look of accomplishment on his face. I wanted hime to grow up as proud of himself as we were of him.
I pushed myself to write this little entry today...it's been too long. Thank you Marybeth.