Tiny fingers grabbing mine and feeling completely safe when our fingers interlock.
Tiny LEGO heads, accessories, and torsos scattered in the crevices of my car mixed with crumbs of last week’s snacks.
The way that only you can say “mama” and each and every way the tone of your voice while saying it means a different feeling you’re going through.
The way you can still fit in my lap. Even the black under your nails from having the time of your life getting dirty.
The smell of your sweaty little feet. The warmth and perfection of a hug from you, even when it’s pinching me somewhere, pulling my hair, or hurting my back.
The sound of your footsteps running around the house with each other. The sound of your different laughters intertwining with each other’s, as you get into mischief or just enjoy the pleasure of each other’s company and sense of humor and body sounds, like farts.
The way your hair looks lightened by the sunlight shining in it. Your innocence yet simultaneous desire to be defiant.
I will miss the tiredness that came so often, set in motion by the busyness of your schedules, and by the strength you made me realize I had.
The sound of your laugh when you got me good with a tickle or popping out from hiding unexpectedly.
I will even miss the site of you in my rear view mirror trying to hide putting your finger in your mouth after it was most probably just in your nose before that.
I will miss seeing your little clothes on the floor that you didn’t pick up again.
Because all this still means I have you, this small, just as you are, before things change and you grow up. I want more than anything for you to be healthy and independent and successful in all the ways that really matter. But right now, I will treasure today, because one day I’ll miss this.