your dad carefully placed a soft towel in our pedestal sink. you, theodore, fit in it like a puzzle piece, so snug. as the warm water flowed over your glistening newborn skin you made the sweetest sounds. together we bathed you and took in your smallness. as i suds up your head of dark chocolate colored hair, we talked about the not so far future when you will be too big for this wee bathing space. because, after all, you are growing like a weed, little one. every time we use our sink we will be reminded of your first bath here. and when we find it hard to recall just how pocked-sized small you were, we will come back to these photographs to be flooded with bittersweet nostalgia.