Babies are soft, anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger’s touch.

But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands.

Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.

But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says “I am” and forms the core of personality.

‎بَارَكَ اللَّهُ لَكَ، وبَارَكَ عَلَيْكَ، وجَزَاكَ اللَّهُ خَيْراً، ورَزَقَكَ اللَّهُ مِثْلَهُ، وأجْزَلَ ثَوَابَكَ

“May Allah bless you and shower His blessings upon you; and may Allah reward you with good, grant you the same and increase your reward.”

Aamiin Ya Rabbiii.

Bubu yukk nakk.. 😘😘😘😘 – with Merry

View on Path

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