In last month or two, during a phase when my lap is always full, my neck skin is constantly fondled, and "I yuv you a bushel and a peck" is whispered repeatedly into my ear throughout the day, I am exceedingly aware that
I have never before--and will never again--be loved as
sweetly
deeply
profoundly
devotedly
innocently
and
all-encompassingly
as I am by my four-year-old Wee Niblet.
It rather takes my breath away.
