Is there anything as pure and beautiful as the face of your child as he sleeps?
My son is sleeping, the angel.
It’s 5 a.m. – and he sleeps the rest of champions. He won a big game last night – and played over for 30 minutes. Came home at ten p.m., but was so wired he played another hour of b-ball in the neighbourhood court.
His little face is angelic indeed. He is pure of thought, of heart.
Nothing to me is more lovely, nay, more exciting even. I could spend all day just looking at him and feel I missed out on nothing.
Unconditional love does that, eh?