Little Hands, Busy Hands

 I've always loved the artistry of hands, and used to love the work of Rodin in particular.

Other than for newborns, it seems kids' hands never are the focus of photos (at least mine), and I think it's a mistake.

 These little hands tell a story without saying a word.

 They convey an age.

 And an afternoon spent outside.

 I may not always remember to take photos of my kids' busy hands.

 Or their ten tiny toes.

 But at least for a couple of days when Bennett was two and a half and Orelia was four and a half, I will remember exactly how their tiny hands worked and played.

And the curl of their little feet.

And the dirty and torn fingernails showing a childhood worth having.

These little hands, these busy hands, mean the world to me.