When she calls for me in the night, she wraps her chubby arms around my neck and says, “MY mommy” in her sticky, sleepy voice. Sometimes her voice trails off…”the best.”
Rough road trip or afternoon? Cured by Itsy Bitsy Spider! She also requests Miss Muffet and The King Was In His Counting House.
She loves to run over to our IKEA easel and sing the ABC’s – exaggerating the X and the Z.
The librarians and bookstore owners come over to cluck and coo because never has there been a more rapturous reader. She is perfectly content to sit on the floor with a pile of books about her, reading aloud with wide eyes and perfect enunciation. She burrows her eyebrows at the serious parts and chuckles to herself at the funny parts. It bewitches me.
The way two-year-olds run is something that makes your heart burst. Also – jumping. The effort of their whole bodies and the tiny distance as they reach for the sky. Hop! Hop! Like a mini piglet on a blustery afternoon without a care in the world.
When she prays, she folds her fingers together and earnestly shares her heart. I can usually make out a “Dear God,” “every day,” and “help us.”
I know I should be recording more videos. I really do want to imprint all of this in my memory, but I’m usually too busy soaking it all in.
I ADORE age two. Truthfully, if anything brings me to having another baby, it might be knowing that this is my last foray with two.
Age two, I’ll never quite get over you.