I drive down the road and you chatter in the back, giggling at life. And the tears fill my eyes as I desperately will them away...because, well, I have to drive. As they recede back to the ducts, I whisper about how much I love you, about how I hope you'll always know that.
This mama thing is hard. My heart hurts most days because I know this time is fleeting. That these days, these beautiful, amazing days will rush away into you growing up and I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that. And then I feel like the Grinch with my heart expanding and it being amazing and scary. The one thing I know for sure is that I never could have imagined that one so little would make me grow so much.
Each day is a constant stream of thought to put the book down, to shut the phone off and to just soak in everything about you that day. So I set the book aside and I fly you through the air. I shut the phone off and just giggle with you. I'm learning to see the delight in the small things, the delight you find so easily.
There will never be another child like you. A baby still, who people we know about town, but whose names we don't even know seem to just love. A man telling us he just couldn't stop talking about you, about this super happy, smiling baby. The cafe people who stop to tell you how you're their favorite or how they've missed you recently.
I pray that you continue to be full of joy. That life hands you lemons, but that you always enjoy citron presses. I don't wish it to always be easy. I think adversity will build your character beautifully. But I do pray hard that you don't stray from this path you seem to dance along.
You are my beautiful, joyful Smoosh. And I love you.