Self Portrait Tuesday: September Body Part Challenge

My feet, bare, in flip flops all summer. Since I got pregnant last year, they've been unadorned---I couldn't reach my toes, for my belly. Now, I never have the time to fuss with nail lacquer and little brushes. My feet are strong and tan. My toes, nimble. I can pick things up with them, or draw, or write my name. I climb with them, run twenty miles a week. Walk to the grocery store, the farmer's market, the park, carrying my weight, plus the wriggling weight of this baby boy I have.

His feet, new and soft as cream, just now encountering the downward pull of gravity for the first time. He curls his toes when he nurses, thrusting his feet about in delight. He puts them up high on the handle bar of his stroller, like a lazy teenager with his feet on the dashboard of some too-cool car. And last night, at 3 a.m. he was awake in his crib for awhile, playing chortling to himself softly in the darkness. Then he made a mighty grunt, and pulled himself up into a STAND. Feet quivering, toes down first, and a grin so huge, we could see even in the dark.