Even now, years later, I can visualize holding each little finger in my hand during those long first nights together. Counting them. Inspecting them again and again as if to confirm their perfection.
I loved that feeling of each of my tiny, newborn girl's hands clenching my finger tightly while they slept. I don't know how many 3:00AMs I laid on the couch with a teeny little hand clutching my pinky or index finger.
I really do have a fascination with little hands and little feet. My girls are slightly older now, but compared to mine, they still have the tiniest of hands and feet.
I can't resist tickling the little one's little feet and watching her cackle with laughter and scamper across the room. Even when changing her diaper, I marvel at how her little feet kick and fuss.
Sometimes I pick up a tiny shoe or sandal and just shake my head at how small they seem compared to mine.
There's something incredible about spying little footprints in the sand and I envy that my middle child refuses to wear shoes. "Dad" she says; "My toes just need to be free."
Even my eldest still has tiny hands when compared to mine. She took my hand the other day and I was struck by just how small her hand still was. She might be the eldest but she's still my little girl whose tiny fingers used to clench my hand in the middle of the night.
I think I'll always have a fascination with little hands and little feet because they'll remind me of when my girls were so young.