Dear Love Bug,
This is something I want to remember forever. We went to the other playground this afternoon before dinner–the one at the elementary school–and we played in the sun and crisp air. It feels more like November than May.
You bit it hard at one point and went sprawling, hands first, tummy down in the mulch. Instatears. You scraped up your hands pretty badly but you went running toward the jungle gym, still howling. I ran after you and even though I know you really wanted to climb that jungle gym through the tears, you had to take a moment to crumple into my arms and rest your head on my shoulder. I’m glad that makes it better.
That’s not even the part I want to remember.
That part came later, long after the tears had been forgotten. Daddy had just texted to say dinner was almost on the table, and I was facing a three-block walk with the slowest, most distractable toddler ever. So I scooped you up and put you on my hip. At one point, without warning, I took off at a gallop. At first, you looked terrified, bouncing on my hip. But then it was squeals of joy and uncontrollable giggles.
“Do it again!” you demanded. So I walked a bit and then suddenly started running. More giggles. And then I started giggling, and I was out of breath but couldn’t stop laughing at your laughter.
“Run all the way home!” you squealed. And we sprinted and laughed and walked and giggled and ran until we made it home for dinner.
I want to remember what it feels like to have the giggles with you. This is maybe what I’ll miss most when you grow up.
Love you like crazy, kiddo,