Son1 is six months old, happily lazing in the playpen.
I am baking Christmas cookies.
Nat King Cole is playing on the stereo and I am singing along.
It’s unusually warm so I have the front door open. As I bake and sing, I dance back and forth between the kitchen and my beautiful baby boy.
At some point I pick him up and we dance around the living room, singing and laughing and just enjoying what I will come to call a ‘mommy moment’.
As I twirl around, I see the mailman standing outside the front door watching me with my son.
I freeze, starting to feel embarrassed, but then I realize he’s smiling at us, enjoying this moment as much as I (not to mention the cookies I left for him in the mailbox!)
I throw my head back and laugh out loud and continue to dance with my son in my arms.