I'm going to miss the simple joy of hearing his first words - like when he called me "mom" a few days ago. (Not mama. Just mom.) I turned into a puddle right on the spot.
I'm going to miss his cheeks, and how they peek out of his hats like tiny apples.
Or how he points at everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.
I'm going to miss how easy it is to make him giggle and the melty feeling in my heart when he shows all of his still-growing-in-teeth.
I will desperately miss the moments when he climbs into my lap with a book and lets me cuddle him as we read. In these moments I stroke his blonde hair and kiss his cheeks a million times. It won't be long before he's too big for my lap. (Literally.)
And when I think about it? I'll probably (somewhat sadistically) miss the hard parts too.
Like the throw-yourself-on-the-floor tantrums or feeling like the only word I ever say is "no."
I'll miss his dramatic pouty lip that he gives when he's in trouble, and how I have to hide my face to keep him from seeing my smile.
So in the mean time, I'm praying that I can listen to my future-self. I'm hoping that when I get overwhelmed or frustrated, I can be patient and just soak it all in. (Seems crazy, I know.) But all these moments, the exhausting ones and the exhilarating ones, are fleeting. And I want to cherish each one of them. (Insert prayers for patience here.)