My almost 3 year old sits at the table, happily chattering about imagined worlds with his brother and sticking olives on each finger. “Raaaaaawwrrrrrr! I’m owiv okopuss monster!”
“Mommy, you wike owivs?”
“I do baby.”
“Mommy, I wuv you.”
This is the moment, people. The 10 months I spent waking every hour to console/nurse him. The constant 2 year old whining. The poop and pee and vomit. The tears, oh the tears, we both have shed. The never ending 6 am wakings no matter what.
This is the moment you hold onto. This boy in particular likes to tell me daily that he loves me without me prompting him to do so. Having an older child than him, I know that that heart-filling habit may not last. So I cling to his words and I breathe in his dimpled smile and twinkling eyes.
“I wuv you mommy.”
Then he turns to Daddy with a devilish grin and whispers, “Me no like you Daddy.” Then busts out with a mischievous giggle. My husband and I both look at each other and laugh hard. A boy after his daddy’s own heart…he already has a coy and on-point sense of humor. We both know Daddy is his favorite at the moment.
Delighted with our reaction, he whispers it again. “Me no like you Daddy.” Then he reaches for him to pick him up and gives his Daddy a big bear hug, still giggling.
All the puking and 24/7 nausea when I was pregnant with him. All of the fierce kicks to my organs and cervix (ouch!) from that abnormally strong little infant.
It’s worth it when he says those four words to me because I know it comes from a place of innocence and sincerity.
Fast forward 5 minutes later to him spilling his newly opened yogurt, splattering it all over the floor and cupboards.
“Sowwy mommy, it atsident!” he quickly explains with tears gathering in his eyes.
The moments mommy, remember the moments and breeeeeeeaathe.