Waylon: 22 Months

22-months

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Kid.

You are the perfect button pusher, the perfect soul stopper, the perfect bad day fixer.

You chase me around the house, unfolding the wash, screaming for cookies, spitting out your food. I throw up my hands. What did I do to deserve you?

You run to me with long open arms, wanting Big Hug or Big Kiss, stroking my hair, whispering in my ear. I look at you. What did I do to deserve you?

You are contemplative and moody, affectionate and messy, tentative and brave.

You want so desperately to be big even though you still ask to nurse daily, ask for cuddles hourly, even though you still want to fall asleep in my arms.

I am always so busy. You want my attention with every inch. I try to distract you, but you know all my tricks and are not afraid to be a dinosaur.

In the grocery store you say HELLO to every single soul even though I’m trying to hurry, hurry. I feel shy. You tell me: SAY HI MAMA. I let out all my breaths.

You are smart. You are tall. You are clumsy and vain.

You are made of all our best dreams.

You are loved.

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