Yesterday the two of us were cuddling close to each other trying to take a nap. You wanted to wiggle away and I held you close saying, "in a couple of years you wont come close to me, so just stay put." Your eyes teared up, you turned and looked at my face and said, "amma don't say such things and make me sad."
I reminded you that," this is a part of growing up Babs, it is what I did and what everyone has done. Nothing wrong with it," I tried to rationalize. You being all of five asserted, "amma, I will never stop cuddling with you, if you say such things, I am going to get really sad and cry."
"I promise, I wont say such things again," I assured her and held her close by scared that in a few years you will be embarrassed to hug me, give me a kiss on the cheek, or hold hands with me like you do every time we go for a walk. Which by the way I love, our walks. Our evening mile long walks when we do multiplication tables, sing songs, say stories, talk nonsense, fight, and you get tired when I drop you off home with Dad. I love those.
I love the way you experiment walking on your own a few steps and then hurry coming back to hold my hands. I love the tiny fingers and big talks. I felt bad when you cried after seeing a dead squirrel on the road. Then I loved the story to made up to make it a happy ending for the squirrel, the enthusiasm with which you shared the story with your dad and pointing the exact location where we found him when we drive by each time.
You are so grown up...well...most of the time. And then again you are a little baby, our baby. We fight everyday when you eat slowly, as if each bite should and has to take 3 minutes at least. We fight when you start bargaining TV time for doing even the simplest thing. I love that you know how to strike a deal. We fight when you start doing something and loose focus on it. We fight when you go to a class and spend more time chatting than actually working. But at the end of the day after you have slept, when me and your dad look at your face, we are in awe of everything that you. All the energy, ideas, ideals, laziness, and most importantly the love your being holds, how you define us and how we define ourselves because you. I love you my Babs!
Love
ART
I reminded you that," this is a part of growing up Babs, it is what I did and what everyone has done. Nothing wrong with it," I tried to rationalize. You being all of five asserted, "amma, I will never stop cuddling with you, if you say such things, I am going to get really sad and cry."
"I promise, I wont say such things again," I assured her and held her close by scared that in a few years you will be embarrassed to hug me, give me a kiss on the cheek, or hold hands with me like you do every time we go for a walk. Which by the way I love, our walks. Our evening mile long walks when we do multiplication tables, sing songs, say stories, talk nonsense, fight, and you get tired when I drop you off home with Dad. I love those.
I love the way you experiment walking on your own a few steps and then hurry coming back to hold my hands. I love the tiny fingers and big talks. I felt bad when you cried after seeing a dead squirrel on the road. Then I loved the story to made up to make it a happy ending for the squirrel, the enthusiasm with which you shared the story with your dad and pointing the exact location where we found him when we drive by each time.
You are so grown up...well...most of the time. And then again you are a little baby, our baby. We fight everyday when you eat slowly, as if each bite should and has to take 3 minutes at least. We fight when you start bargaining TV time for doing even the simplest thing. I love that you know how to strike a deal. We fight when you start doing something and loose focus on it. We fight when you go to a class and spend more time chatting than actually working. But at the end of the day after you have slept, when me and your dad look at your face, we are in awe of everything that you. All the energy, ideas, ideals, laziness, and most importantly the love your being holds, how you define us and how we define ourselves because you. I love you my Babs!
Love
ART
