nothing better

than being woken by the ice cold feet of a 3 year old. When I stay over in Nampa, Fiona climbs in bed with me in the morning and puts her feet on my stomach. She's such a piece of work. It was her birthday on Monday, she's already 3. I held her and held her when she came home from the hospital. I'm hanging on because soon enough she won't come running, shrieking my name, clamoring to be picked up.