Memories are made of this…

James was in his Bumbo grabbing his Giraffe called Gerry and twisting his feet around.

I’m sitting on the floor in front of James wiping a dribble from his chin.

Pete is sitting on the ottoman behind us both.

The TV is off and the iPod is on. We are trying to induct James to our love of music.

Its eclectic and passionate in both positive and negative ways.

The wind is howling outside but there is brilliant sunshine.

The smell of the baby powder Yankee tart burning is overpowering the lounge.

Volare starts to play. Pete begins to sing in his best Dean Martin accent.

Volare, Oh oh 

James starts laughing, I try to get in on the action.

Cantare, oh, oh, oh, oh

More laughter from James, from the belly this time.

His chubby little hands always go to his mouth when he laughs, his eyes showing most of the expression of joy.

More and more attempted singing.

More laughing.

And then it happens.

A moment so perfect, I have a perfect image in my head forever.

Its a moment I can barely describe except, this is what happiness is.

It was such a simple little memory, nothing significant happened, except how much I fell in love with my boys all over again.

A Mum and Dad and Son all exceptionally happy. And it started with a song.

I hope James wants music in his life.

Just so we can have lots of moments like this.

No wonder my happy heart sings,

Your love has given me wings

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