Saturday, December 5


My daughter is not a morning person. I have described her many times as a feral cat. She's a Leo. And she's 2 years old. Someone hold me.

But today she woke up. Sweet. Somewhat happy. After snuggling for a bit she slid herself over the side of my bed and said, "C'mon, Mommmmm." I laughed. "C'monnn. C'monnnn, Mmmmom. Come on, mom!"

How does this happen? Who is this little person? Every time I hold her I picture her when she's 16 and that I won't be able to walk from room to room of the house carrying her, nor will I be able to carry her, my purse, wheel my (yes, I had to resort to such humiliation much to the delight of my back) book bag, her lunch, and her bag of blankets and pillow for daycare across campus. I won't be able to hike with her strapped to my body in an Ultimate Baby Wrap. I won't hold her like a tiny baby and tell her everything she's going to do the next day before I lay her down in her crib for nigh-night time. She won't ask for a paci. I'll be able to understand every word she says, though I may not comprehend teenage talk. Will she grow out of her "curtsy" phase and willingly wear pants and tee shirts ever again? How much will she remember of these days?

At least I'll be out of school by then (God willing) and when she wants me to leave her alone she won't say, "Go 'puter, mommy." And when she wants me to stay home she won't say, "No. Stay here and do homework."

1 comment:

Mike Bailey said...

My oldest is 11, and my youngest is 7. I've enjoyed every phase for sure, but I confess there is something just wonderful having them lap-sized. I can hardly pick up my oldest, and my youngest is growing quickly. Pout.