Month 14: Before I Forget

It's time once again, boys and girls, for yet another installment of "Before I Forget" because my memory is letting far too many small perfect details slip through the cracks. And it's exactly those seemingly insignificant details that add up to be absolutely everything. So, here goes.

When I'm 64 (and 79 and 96), I want to remember...

- How Daniel calls our cats Max and Mittens both "Mah".
- How Daniel calls all cats (and dogs) "Mah".
- How on the way home yesterday, Daniel called a herd of cows "Mah".
- How Daniel dances with more vigor daily - bending lower and swinging his left arm recklessly.
- How he's started cuddling more, and will seek us out to lay his head on our shoulders.
- How when he's hungry he'll sit on the floor and wait for me to join him (with a can of fruit, of course!)
- How he likes to sit in my lap when we read ... and how sometimes he'll prefer to read by himself.
- How he looks perfect in a tiny brown 'fro' wig and white sunglasses.
- How he picked out his own Lightening McQueen ballcap and didn't take it off all day.
- How he uses a fork when he eats ... sometimes two or three at a time.
- How when he's in the shower with me, he plays with his tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles. And holds onto the bench, stomping his feet just to hear the splashing noise.
- How he expects music to come from every laptop he sees.
- How hearing the word "No" causes him to cry harder than any bump on the head.
- How in the bath, if you put soap on his hands, he rubs them all over his belly.
- How he looks enormous next to an infant, and tiny next to an adult.
- How he plays basketball with the magnetic hoop and applauds himself each time he makes a basket.
- How he cries when Ava cries.
- How he sleeps on his knees with his backside up in the air.
- How when he's feeling sick, he strongly prefers to be held by me.
- How when he feels like being tickled, he throws himself on Fernando with reckless abandon.
- How he runs from room to room, laughing hysterically.
- How he carries around the tiny camping light like his own personal lantern.
- How he loves to carry around a toothbrush, chewing on it occasionally.
- How he helps me put wet clothes in the dryer, one by one.
- How when he's learning a word, he gets really close to my mouth and stares at my lips until he goes cross-eyed.
- How quickly hysterical laughter turns to sobbing when he's exhausted.
- How nothing feels better than a family hug.
- How he loves everyone, but loves us most.

The memories far exceed the space in this posting, and Daniel's rate of change far exceeds the capacity of my memory. This parenting thing is both tragic and wonderful - definitely bittersweet. And while it's almost impossible to enjoy the moment, missing it even while I'm in it, every day is an adventure and a lesson in not missing the 'now' at the expense of the future.