Most of my close friends know that I don't really like babies. I like babies that are 6+ months old, sleeping through the night, and cheerful. Anything before then is pretty much a blur of sour milk on your nightgown, spit up on your last clean shirt, up all night, endless diaper changing, infant squalling, bottle making, burping, tylenol giving moments. This doesn't mean I don't love my babies. I do so much it hurts a little bit. However, I love so much more the transition to bigger babyhood when life is beginning to have meaning for them.
But my most favorite thing about babies--particularly my babies, is the cuddle fuzz. Both of my boys were born with that super fine, sweet, lighter than air, stick straight up on the top of their head downy fuzzy hair. People used to ask me if I spiked my older son's hair with gel to get it to do that. Nope, he got it honest. My younger son looks alot like Chicken Little without the glasses. There is nothing more precious to me than holding those boys when they were (and are) 6 to 12 months and kissing them on those fuzzy Chicken Little heads. It's my cuddle fuzz.
Now that my oldest has slightly heavier hair--it's still fly away bed head on a daily basis, and he is a little "too big" for cuddling unless he's tired or not feeling well, I can't seem to put my baby down. I want that cuddle fuzz to last forever. Both my boys love to give me hugs and kisses. I cherish the moments when those sweet little arms go around me and squeeze. Those are precious moments too, but no moments will ever be as precious to me as my cuddle fuzz moments with my two baby chicks.