When I think of my infant I think, "where'd I leave her?".
She was so danged small. Her face was a different shape and her hair was so, so dark.
Today, her second birthday, she is tall, lanky and not so squishy. She hair is streaked with browns and blondes that any woman'd love for their hairdresser to master. She is proficient in her emotions, telling me moment to moment what she is feeling and how it came to be that way. Her comedic side is strong. She uses different voices to convey different messages and raises her eyebrows to up her chances of understanding.
She's a freaking miracle. I am biting my tongue to not lay out every over-done saying about kids and growing and time passing and, and, and....it's all so tragically true. I want her to be 2 forever. It's the most fun. I also wanted her to be 2 weeks old forever, and 6 months old forever. I guess that's a promising sign. All of these times are outrageous. Her toddler-ness challenges me and rewards me over and over again in the span of a single day.
I want more kids. Like 4 more. In a few minutes I'll be convinced that Ro should be an only child. Then I'll want 2 more kids. Then I'll kick myself for ever having one because I love her so much it physically drains me and I wait around in terror that something could happen to her. I can't win and yet I've won so completely.
Happy 2nd birthday baby Ro (geez, I guess I have to drop the "baby" now, huh?).