But right now. So many little things happen daily. Things that I wish I could bottle up and preserve, to look at and enjoy when I have the time to immerse myself in it fully. Because let’s face it, the cuteness is at its most cute when I’m cross with you and giving you a scolding or when I’m trying to hurry you to get dressed/put shoes on/get in the car or trying to get you to stop pulling the cat’s tail/get down from the window sill/stop balancing on the edge of the bath/sliding up and down the tub and splashing water all over the bathroom walls and ceilings. There’s no time, in the moment, to appreciate you.
So here’s a quick list of things I’d like to keep forever:
- You look like your father when you sleep. It’s probably the only time that you look exactly like him. Every single other face you have – pouty/sulky/sad/cross/happy – it’s all me. Except for the blue eyes, your fingers, lips and toes – it’s all me.
- How much you love to sing. ‘This Little Light of Mine’, ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands’ and ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Fart’. Yes, that last one’s a particular favourite of yours. I’ve only heard the first stanza of this song, because after ‘twinkle, twinkle little fart’ you usually fall around laughing, hysterically. Yup, I mentioned yesterday about potty humour?
- Your big crocodile tears and quivering bottom lip. And how they work so well on your father/grandmother/grandfather/aunts/uncles. Everyone except me.
- The heart-tugging-ness of it all. How you put your little hand in mine, as we’re walking out the school gate and you look up at me and say: “Mommy, I missed you today.” Every day, without fail.
- How you know, just know, whether or not your dad will be at home or not by the time we get home.
- I love how you’ve reached that stage where you’d prefer to stay home with your parents, instead of going to your Granny’s house. Even though you only want to stay at home to play PSP or Angry Birds on my phone, it’s nice to have you around.
- The way you say to me: “mommy, I want to tell you a secret.” and then you whisper in my ear with your hot boy-breath “mommy, I love you.” It’s no secret to me, but I still love hearing it.
- You’re a know-it-all. And this, I must confess, you get equally from your father and myself. When I asked you the other day how you knew something, you glibly replied: “because I’m a genius, mom. That’s why.”
- Your sentence structure/vocabulary/enunciation/etc is generally excellent. Far superior to most kids your age. I attribute this to the fact that your father and I never ever once indulged in ‘baby talk’ with you. Regardless, you still get a few things mixed up, and I think they’re so adorable I can’t bear to correct you. Yesterday’s gem? “Bas-ghetti bombanaise.” You’d had spaghetti bolognaise for lunch at school, and you were telling me all about it.
- Your favourite chocolate is what you call a PSP Bar. It is, in fact, a PS bar – but such is your love for your PSP, that you extend it to chocolate as well.
But most of all, I want to remember how much I love you, right now. Because, no doubt, in about ten years time (probably less) you’ll probably be annoying the snot out of me with your rude, ungrateful, churlish teenage self. I’ll need something to remind me that it is all worth it. Although I’m sure you’ll probably still have your moments that make me want to hug you to death, instead of strangling you. For your sake, you better.