I love to hear Greyson running through the house. I hear those little chubby feet pitter patter from one end of the house to the other. Along with the pitter patter is the baby chatter. Wonderful sounds that are part of my day.
Those little feet leave footprints on the freshly mopped floor, and when he escapes from the bathtub without getting dried off, wet little footprints mark where he has been. Footprints that will be mopped up, dried up, and soon forgotten.
It's the footprints on my heart that will never go away. Grandkids open our hearts door, and just walk right in. Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, little things that matter.
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