Sweet Smallest.

Everyone's been slightly under the weather over the last few days. None more so than The Smallest. He has been permanently on my hip in the sling. Won't eat. Put him on the floor and he is so sad I can't help but swoop him up again.



This evening, snuggled in the sling, we stood on the lane, with the sea in our ears, the setting sun warm on our faces, and listened to the birds sing their tiny hearts out. Hot cheeks resting on my chest, silent listening, his big blue eyes gazed over the waving grasses, awake now as he hasn't been for days. The curlews soared overhead, the sound of their cry like a distant ancient memory that makes me want to cry and also shout for joy. In spite of my exhaustion.

Whoop to the sky!