I will see Daddy’s mini-me, and laugh at how many times strangers pointed it out to us.
My heart will be in my throat all over again as you spontaneously jump up and flip, roll, cartwheel, handstand, headstand and dance across the floor. Across the couch. Across the counter. Down the entire flight of stairs. Off my bed. Into the tub. Out of the back of our minivan.
I’ll try to remember whether it was this year that your romance with Star Wars started, you became a secret reader like your sister, and you first felt “shy”. It was.
I’ll hear you call for a “Family Hug!” and even though you sometimes squeeze too tight, I’ll love every minute of that hug. I really love those family hugs!
I will smell the dewy baby sweat that you still sometimes get, especially after you dance “woopnam gangnam style”. I’ll suck it in, breathing deep, thinking how pure it is.
I’ll taste those “heavenly” P & S Ravioli that Aunt Sue made for you that Sunday and wish we were all still around her table.
I’ll hold your little hand when it searches for my belly as you get sleepy during books, smile down at you as you whisper how much you love it, and try to love myself the way that you do.
I’ll try not to yell, “STOP MENACING YOUR BROTHER!”, because, the truth us, while you are The Scooch, he totally deserves it.
You bring so much love to all of us. I am so glad that you were born.