And just like that it happened my dear Violet, All of the sudden your all arms and legs, sprawling over my arms as I carry you back to your bed. Maybe it’s your preference for two-piece pajamas and those words that are slowly climbing their way out of your throat – but these days, it seems our ‘baby’ has grown.
There are days when you still fall asleep in my arms, or leaning on me as we read. It happens when we miss a nap time but instead of covering you in a blanket, standing up and carrying you the long way up the stairs I decide that I will relish this moment. Deep breaths from those little lungs, in and out, in and out. Flutters of those long eyelashes as you fall asleep and the realisation that at almost two, the days are numbered that you’re going to fall asleep in my arms.
Two years have passed since we welcomed you into our life. The most-mellow child, you can get riled up with the best of them and become a ball of fire when you’re defending your territory, but I guess little sisters have to get good at that.
We’ve come a long way. We’ve learned balance, we’ve achieved near zen and we’ve learned to thrive with all you’ve taught us a lot along the way.
You’re quick to smile, even quicker to laugh. You’re mellow in the background of your rambunctious older sister and always quick to jump up for a ‘smooch’. You need to the center of attention when it comes to reading time and front and center is the only acceptable seat for you.
I want to remember how on the ‘BONK’ page of ‘Me Hungry’ you always bonk your head against the book and when it comes time for Edwin to hunt, you pretend to eat the rabbit – and you did from the first time we read it.
I want to remember how your arms and legs intertwined in my own arms as I rocked you to sleep and sing the ‘goodnight song’ and the squeals of happiness when you get your way.
I want to remember the days where you refused to eat anything other than watermelon.
I want to remember your tiny hands, dragging me to where you want me to go.
I want to remember those short moments before sleep when your thumb slowly fell out of your mouth and you drifted off.
I want to remember the mischief, the wonder and the excitement of discovering everything around you for the first time and the wonder that returned while watching it.
I want to remember the ‘Mama’ in the middle of the night, over and over, until someone finally came and let you out of your crib – until you learned to climb out.
I want to remember that first time we painted your nails, the first time we went down the big waterslide at the pool and the first time you felt brave enough to jump into the deep end. I want to remember the love you have for your sister, how you learned to sign ‘I’m sorry’, the first time you rode on the front of the shopping cart, the chaos and those quiet moments stolen away when the world disappeared and it was only the two of us.