“You are the fastest! Go!!”
I watch you run as fast as your pudgy little feet will take you, full cheeks bouncing in ecstasy at the freedom you have to just run; jump; be.
You climb on the chairs, color a picture, stacks blocks, and “read” books. Oh, the books.
I have them all memorized by now. Just like every nook and cranny of your porcelain face, pudgy-dimpled hands, wiggly toes. We read them over and over and over again. And then once more. You can find the animals and sing their songs. Your tiny fingers finding every minute detail on every page. We close the book only to start again.
You’re racing ahead, little man and I do my best to run alongside you. But a piece of my heart just can’t help but break at the speed of your childhood. Inside I’m stomping on the proverbial brake pedal of life, of your growing, and yet you plow on through undaunted.
Now, on the eve of your second birthday I sit both in awe and muted grief. I’m in awe of the amazing heart already being cultivated in your spirit. In awe of the leaps and bounds with which you grow and change day by day. Minute by minute. Simultaneously grieving the babyhood that is gone; the infancy that has flown at lightning speed, just like your sisters’ did.
Yet the joy far outweighs the sorrow and so I run with you and cheer and squeal and revel in the delight that is you, and your delight of this world.