Small Miracle

He was a month old yesterday and he is wonderful. His name is Nathaniel, which means "Gift from God." He's a gift, all right. I remember when we brought our older daughter home from the hospital. We lived in a duplex then, with our landlord and his lady. Mr. Wilson had a grown stepson, but never a baby of his own. He used to annoy me mildly in the early weeks of our baby's life by repeatedly saying, as if to reassure us, "Any day now, she'll start doing things." It seemed to us that she already "did things" every day. She opened her eyes. She closed her eyes. She flailed her tiny hands about. She sucked her thumb. She kicked, she squirmed, and I swear she laughed out loud twice during her first stroller ride. (The canopy blocked my view, but I know I heard a loud chuckle). She gazed out at the world soberly, with big, blue eyes. Her nephew has the same sober gaze, and every once in awhile, his face crinkles into a merry smile. We think we've heard him chuckle, too.