I love that at this stage my kiss still makes everything stop hurting. A hug makes everything better. And even if my refusal causes the tears, it is still my arms that stop them.
I am excited for when museum wandering means more than 4 seconds at each exhibit.
I’m excited for when they’re old enough to have dish nights and I’m not the only one in the kitchen.
I’m excited for Saturday mornings I have to wake THEM up and not the other way around (I’ll take any morning of that, actually).
I’m excited to read Harry Potter and Chronicles of Narnia and the Bartimaeus Trilogy.
But right now, I really love their excitement when they figure out a new trick on their little scooters, their cries of triumph when they ask for a jelly bean after successfully using the toilet, and the way they always ask for three more things before bed, “a hug, a kiss, and a high five.”
Usually I consider motherhood the epitome of selflessness; you spend your whole day (and often night) in service of tiny little humans who, for the first year or two, cannot even say thank you. But, really, to be a mother to young children is to be loved, unconditionally and always, and to be needed. And both of those are beautiful. And awesome.
Selfishly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Except maybe those early mornings.