Time Machines

So when I came home last evening, Ryan had completely torn his room apart and was deep cleaning and purging. He does this about twice a year although I've never seen it to quite this extent. If fact he couldn't finish it all yesterday and is finishing the last bit today. I love that he is not a pack rat. I love that he has his own messy breaking point, although his is a bit further down the line than mine. I guess he is growing up as this time he purged all of his bookshelves and had garbage bag full of books that he had "outgrown". I looked through the bag and memories came flooding back. Suddenly I was sitting in the recliner reading "Jesse Bear, What Will You Wear?" to him sitting on my lap until we had most of it memorized. Sweet, sweet memories.

The other day I opened a tiny sample of baby lotion that had come in an order of stuff. Instantly, memories so real I could actually feel them came crashing around me. Lotion-ing Ryan when he was tiny. He was such a spindly little thing and would snuggle into my shoulder after I got him dressed. Lotion-ing Shelby on my bed. I could feel her fat baby thighs and rolls. I could hear the giggles of the girls as I wrote lotion letters on their backs and it tickled. Sweet, sweet memories...