There are moments I think, will this ever end?
Do you have a toddler too?
In the same draining sigh there are shadows of it already has.
The toys, the books, the loads of laundry still unfolded in wicker baskets: her room only stays organized while she sleeps.
Questions are repeated hourly.
Why did you just pull that off the shelf?
Where are your pants?
Didn't you just eat 3 snacks?
But her laughter. Oh, the laughter.
And she pushes until she gets mine.
I am confused.
Stop being 3 for a minute! Don't ever stop being 3.
This child brings life. Brings me out of my own darkness.
I am forced to look at mess differently.
The shoes, her spaghetti stained cheeks, fresh marker on table legs. Please STOP being 3!
Then I hold her. Legs dangling near my knees. Not much longer, I think. She'll be standing and we will meet eye to eye.
Don't EVER stop being 3!
I am a walking contradiction. And I think she knows.