...the way Anna is the eternal compromiser. Regardless of who she's compromising with, she's always the one who bends. Always the kind little girl who cares about others feelings.
...the fact that Miles went to sit on the potty this morning and while peeing said, "It's working Mom! It's working!"
...how ticklish my kids are. They play this game with Matt we like to call, "So tell me Kids." They beg for it. He always complies, mercilessly.
Anna's penmanship.
The way Miles ends up sleeping on the floor in the girls' room. Every. Single. Night.
The wonderful conversations that Abbie and I have while we're walking hand in hand to school every morning. Such a smart little girl.
The way Lukie (I admit the nickname) is happy as a clam as long as someone is paying attention to him, but as soon as no one is in his sight, he starts whimpering. Social beasty!
The fact that Miles HATES the pickles on his McDonald's Cheeseburger. He will bring it to me and say, "You want the pickle, mama?" (Always Mama, never Mom or mommy.) Then after I eat it he says, "Yummy, huh?" even though he thinks its totally gross.
And so much more. I feel this pressing urgency to hold onto every last memory. Every last quirk, funny game, or hilarious comment. I want to stop time, and squeeze all the lovejuice out of our days. I want to hold on.
...the fact that Miles went to sit on the potty this morning and while peeing said, "It's working Mom! It's working!"
...how ticklish my kids are. They play this game with Matt we like to call, "So tell me Kids." They beg for it. He always complies, mercilessly.
Anna's penmanship.
The way Miles ends up sleeping on the floor in the girls' room. Every. Single. Night.
The wonderful conversations that Abbie and I have while we're walking hand in hand to school every morning. Such a smart little girl.
The way Lukie (I admit the nickname) is happy as a clam as long as someone is paying attention to him, but as soon as no one is in his sight, he starts whimpering. Social beasty!
The fact that Miles HATES the pickles on his McDonald's Cheeseburger. He will bring it to me and say, "You want the pickle, mama?" (Always Mama, never Mom or mommy.) Then after I eat it he says, "Yummy, huh?" even though he thinks its totally gross.
And so much more. I feel this pressing urgency to hold onto every last memory. Every last quirk, funny game, or hilarious comment. I want to stop time, and squeeze all the lovejuice out of our days. I want to hold on.
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