"Jimmies" is a Pittsburgh-ese term. At least I think it is. The waitress at Friendly's in Myrtle Beach looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language when I requested them for Jamie's ice cream sundae.
Jimmies are "sprinkles" - those little wax covered sugary things that come in rainbow colors (and indeterminate flavor) or black/brown chocolate flavor that always make the item in question look vaguely like it is covered in ants.
And yet. A soft serve ice cream cone just isn't complete without them.
Early in the summer I absentmindedly swiped at Jamie's face with a baby wipe in a futile attempt to remove some of the grime that always seems to emerge regardless of if he's been rolling in the dirt or sitting quietly on the couch.
I noticed a few spots were more stubborn than others. On closer inspection, I marveled, "Jamie! You've got freckles!"
He'd never had them before you see. This face that I've looked at every single day of his life, all 1509 of those days, has grown, but remained essentially the same baby soft, apple cheeked, pointy chinned face.
How very lucky I am to be witness to something as simple as the arrival of his first freckles. We can only hope I won't wax as poetic over his first pimple. And if he takes after his Daddy I may not live long enough to see his first chest hair.
But his freckles only serve as the sprinkled topping on the sweetest boy I could ever ask for.
Midtown up - Three Hipstamatic shots in one.
3 days ago