We call him Josiah . . .

I sat him down on a rug near the fireplace. He watched the flames dance as grandpa kept adding wood to the fire. Time to time he would turn around and look at me, then at the Christmas tree, then back at the flames. Each time his face would change expressions, and both my dad and I starred at him not to miss one. I could watch his face for hours, and I did. A book I was reading before he came over was now lost in the folds of the blanket wrapped around me. Josiah was over at our house.








Happy Tuesday!

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