In Those Little Hands

My son has recently become very fascinated with his chubby little hands. When I go and get him out of his crib in the mornings, I often find him holding up his hands, turning them this way and that, flexing his fingers, and studying the entire adage intently. He has been using his hands for months, but it seems he is just now coming to realize what an amazing thing hands really are.

Because he has been watching his hands, I have been watching them too. I watch him use them to roll himself over or prop himself up, to grab toys and his sister's hair and anything within his long reach (he has his father's wingspan). When he gets impatient for food, he slams the palm of his hand down repeatedly on his high chair tray until we get a spoon into his mouth. When he gets excited, his arms flail up and down, willing the rest of his body to follow suit. When he is feeling particularly loving, his sweet little drool-covered hands grab my cheeks and pull my face to his so that he can plant a kiss (or sometimes a raspberry) on my face.

I love all the things those hands can do.

And I often think, as I cuddle him close while feeding him a bottle and he reaches his hands up for my hair or my chin, about all the things I hope those hands will do someday:

Learn to crawl.
Bring food to his mouth.
Catch him as he tumbles from trying to walk.
Build towers.
Splash in the bathtub.
Carry cinder blocks.
Give man-pat hugs.
Draw and paint and create masterpieces.
Pick dandelions, just for me.
Help with chores around our home and yard.
Complete puzzles.
Climb ladders and swing on monkey bars.
Make cookies.
Write his name on his first alphabet worksheet.
Get covered in ice cream drippings or popsicle juice.
Shoot baskets with his Daddy and Uncle.
Read books.
Push his siblings on the swings.
Write reports and finish worksheets and help him learn.
Play an instrument.
Hold the door open for others.
Build things with his Daddy.
Lift up small children who look up to him.
Pass the sacrament.
Collect fast offerings.
Keep a journal.
Go on adventures outdoors.
Learn to drive.
Work at his first job.
Ask a girl to a dance.
Graduate from high school.
Encourage his friends to do good things.
Fill out mission papers.
Give blessings.
Hold a special girl's hand.
Make covenants.
Graduate from college or a technical program.
Hold his babies close.
Wipe away his wife's tears.
Provide a living for his family.
Serve others.


It seems to me that his entire life story is contained in those chubby little hands.