Today you said to me "POOP!"
And so I changed your diaper. While I changed your diaper, you said, "Sorry, Mom. Sorry about your nose."
You kill me.
You are starting to imitate my silly dances. You can ask your aunties exactly how silly they get as you advance in your ability. Yes, we will have routines. We will knock socks off wherever they play music. You have some new moves. Our family song right now is "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas. You could listen to it over and over. You love well constructed beats.
I love you.
You love Daddy. You act more like me (well, you are who your friends are!) and like me, you always want to be messing with him. He really is so much fun, hunh? Your Dad is so great. When I see you all curled up in his lap or laying on him as you ready for sleep, ____________.I just don't even know how to put words to the end of that sentence because those moments are so precious for me I would hate to taint them with my inability to find the proper words, but images of a thousand wild thundering hooves and firecrackers and rainbows and the way the sun makes shafts of lights through a cloud come to my mind.
My love for you is enormous and unworded.
It is sacred.
Sometimes, baby, you don't know the words, but that doesn't mean you don't feel the song. Just hum. And sway. And let it become a part of you.Let it make you something different as you make it your own.
Your voice is the most complex instrument you could ever learn to play, whether it is your singing voice, your writing voice, the voice of your reasoning or the voice of your heart as you grow and learn and become to know things.
Your voice will change songs that have already been written.
It will inspire new songs.
I really know how lucky I am to have you. How lucky for both of us to have lived through childbirth, how lucky that you are so healthy and happy and smart.
Every 10th of the month I honor you, because that was the day you got here. But I celebrate your life every day. Because you are one of the coolest people I know.
1 comment:
I remember those silly dances! I tell dad every time "witchy woman" comes on the radio that you taught me one where I moseyed in a line, pulled out my 'pistols', shot a few rounds, then blew the smoke away. AAAAAAND REPEAT. she's a lucky girl!
-C
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