Leo Clement

I think if you were to ask me which holiday is the most meaningful, which one the most important to me personally, I would have to say Thanksgiving. Sure, Christmas is awesome, with the whole miracle of Christ's birth and our salvation bit, as is Easter for those reasons and then some, like the trampling down death by death thing. But if you were to ask me, which one I value and perhaps keenly feel the importance of the most, I would, hands down, every time, say Thanksgiving. I'll tell you why. (And I have in previous Thanksgiving posts so check the archives!) Thanksgiving was the holiday I hated the most that year when Leo was born. I figured I really had nothing to be thankful for. Nada, zilch, all the good things in my life were a big fat zero. When asked to participate in the round robin voicing of thanks around the festal table, I wanted to pretend to choke on my turkey and slide under the table. I also felt guilty for feeling that way, because let's face it...

For several reasons the past couple of weeks I've been walking down the Leo memory lane. The reasons are as follows: A seemingly veritable baby boom happing here lately that fills the spaces around my friends with squishy baby cheeks and squirmy tots. A heartbreaking situation with one of our friend's baby who was born with a very severe heart anomaly and who did not make it. Please remember baby Damian's family in your prayers. He was one of those special ones that touches and melts a multitude of hearts in his all too brief life. And the last reason is Sloths.  Sloths? What the? Crazy I know, but stick with me here, I'll get there eventually... In the first year of Leo's life I had trouble being around typical, healthy, and well, basically normal babies and children. I had trouble looking at their perfectly formed little noggins without feeling a stab of pain in my heart.  I rarely took Leo anywhere, and when I did he was swathed in a turban li...