It is hot outside, still. 106 today, maybe? That was the forecast.
But all thoughts of the miserable out-of-doors are gone by the wayside, pushed out by this burning hot little one in my arms, whose own temperature is competing with the sun's work out there. He is so miserable he only wants to be held, and so hot his little curled up body leaves a heat imprint even when he's not in my arms. My chest and neck and cheek and arms feel sunburned, even though we've not been outside today.
Sometimes he tries to smile, at his silly brothers, maybe, but the weak little wobbly smile dissolves in moans. Is there anything in the entire world more heartbreaking than a baby moaning?
Well, we're home, staying away from the picnics and swimming party of our weekend plans. It is so hot out there I would be glad to stay home, in the air conditioned, drawn shade cool of my house. I would be glad, if only it weren't so hot, here in my arms.