Sody turned 11 months old last week, which means the monumental First Birthday is upon us. And it also means we are dangerously close to having a TODDLER on our hands. Peace out, Babyhood.
How, oh how, am I going to remember this little baby body? The way her chubby tummy feels when I kiss it? The softness of this thigh or that roly-poly arm? Sometimes I just stare at her or hug her too long or bury my nose in her little neck and breathe her in – all as though I am trying to burn the senses into my brain. I want to hold onto these things forever, just as I wanted to hold onto her newborn self forever too. You really forget how they feel, how small they are at first. And sometime soon the way she feels now is going to feel so faraway, too. I don’t want to forget.
Last night I let her stay up a little late because we were having too much fun. I sat in a chair and stood her up with her feet balanced on my thighs and looked at my big, strong, amazing girl. She moved in to kiss me (this is a new thing – we ask for kisses and she is just starting to understand) with an open mouth and we both erupted in giggles. I tried so hard to commit the moment to memory: the kiss, the laughs, her sweet face with the gap between her front teeth. And then I gave her about three million tummy kisses and pretended to eat her. There is a script that always goes along with the fake nibbling: “Oh, I am going to eat up this little baby because she is so delicious! Yum yum yum, what a yummy baby!” (yes, I really do sound like this) Over and over and over. Then cue her giggling and the goofiest little grin you have ever seen.
She is just so happy about life. Sometimes I still can’t believe someone this good exists.
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