You are my sunshine

Evan walked in a minute ago when I pulled up the blog, and when my new playlist (take that, computer inept-ness!) began, he started to sing along, with an emphasis on the words "the sun." And I just thought: Yes, yes you are. He is my sunny little bit of pure joy, and I have the photos to prove it. Here, five out of about 10,000.

Some of my very favorite pictures of Evan:

The first time he experienced the little bit of Heaven that is raw cookie dough on a beater. (Yeah, yeah, I know, salmonella and all that...but hey, I've licked at least 300-plus spatulas and beaters in my 28 years, and I'm still alive. Some childhood pleasures outweigh the risks.)

Evan's first trip to what I fondly refer to as "the ghetto pumpkin patch." I honestly didn't know pumpkins would consent to grow 200 feet from an 8-lane interstate. I had talked a good friend into going with us by telling her all about the u-pick farms I grew up with, and how picturesque this pumpkin patch would surely be...only to pull up to a field that looked like a cheap carnival, with an inflatable bouncy slide, a petting zoo with two goats, and a pumpkin-eating T-rex (realistic roars and all) made out of a front loader and a tractor. But Evan had a blast, and I think that was the first day I really started to look at things through his eyes. And when I did that, I realized what an awesome time we'd had. We've gone back every year since.

One weekend Evan and I made a surprise trip home (So. Indiana) to visit my mom and dad, and we wound up over at my grandma's house, which is basically where I spent half my childhood. My cousin's daughter Peyton was also there, and the five of us took a walk up the hill that overlooks the farm. I got so many great pictures of Evan that day--it was the first day he said "plane" when he saw an airplane, and when he saw Peyton jumping, he tried his darndest to jump, too.

A few of the photos I took that day also came out with sunbeams falling across Evan...just a bad camera angle with the sun, I know. But Evan never got to meet my Papaw, who passed away when I was 8. Papaw was easily the most special person in my 8-year-old life--he was always singing "You are My Sunshine"--and I know he would have adored Evan, and likewise. So I like to think the "mistakes" in those photos are a special sign that Evan's being watched over by an angel in bib overalls. My grandma has recently talked about selling the farm, and I'm so glad we spent that afternoon looking for pinecones and doing piggy-back rides down the hill.

I married a Catholic boy who teased me for three years about wanting a Mary statue to put in our front yard. Personally, I think Mary herself is horrified by all those bathtub effigies, but I thought I could live with this (tub-less) little one I found at an antique mall. (And anyway, she's partially covered by the hostas in the backyard.) Evan has always had a fascination with her, and on this chilly day he walked over, knelt down, and gently placed a leaf on her head, like he was telling her it was cold and she needed a hat. The leaf kept falling off, and he suddenly took off his toboggan and put it over her head. I could have cried from the sweetness of it. I figure that has to have been worth at least 50 Hail Marys.

And finally: If ever a picture spoke for itself, this is it. How can you not love every. single. thing. about this?