There are so many things I want to remember about you, now, at this age. There is the way you suddenly fling yourself at me and wrap your arms as tight as you can around my neck and whisper into my ear "I love you, mommy," or the way you snuggle up next to me when I read you a story that warms my heart. There are a thousand memories that I want to store forever, to hold and cherish of you, because this time is all to fleeting - I can see that. I love how when I come home I can hear you careening around the house aiming for the back door screaming "Mommy's home! Mommy's home!" at the top of your lungs - and of course the way you graciously reintroduce me to our family ("this is Daddy, that's Izzy") as though I have been gone years, not hours. I love your unexpected quips: I ask you if a new pair of sun glasses look good and you say "you really look like a bug, Mommy" or when you patiently ask Daddy and I to come to the living room "so the rain can start" (I don't pretend to always understand). Each day is an adventure and it makes me stand in awe of you, of what you know and what you are capable of learning and how new the world still is for you. You have taught me so much in so little time: to dance even when there's no music, to sing even if you don't know all the words, and to laugh just to hear the sound.
Thank you sweet pea, for your wisdom and love!