After panning for gold (digging with their fingers through dirt and mud for gold-painted rocks :), I took the boys inside to wash up for lunch. I helped the line-up of cowboys each scrub their hands in the sink. After the first 2 or 3, I got to Landon and as soon as I held his soapy fingers under the faucet, I just had the immediate thought of 'hey - I know these hands!'
Such a sweet moment. To feel those fingers - warm, a little chubby still, strong - familiar. My own sons little hands. Once tiny hands that wrapped around my fingers - grasping, learning. Hands that held mine, crossing streets - sometimes willingly, more often not. Hands I played alongside with sometimes exhaustively - ducks, trains, cars. Hands that I've guided on the piano keys, teaching 'here we go, up a row'. Hands that have helped pour, mix, stir beside mine. Two little hands that sometimes still find mine. What a sweet 5 years of getting to know those little hands!