My son runs like a Golden Retriever puppy - bounding and floppy. Over apple slices and cashews the other day, I got my first unprompted, “I lud you, mama!” On the nights I lay down in his crib with him to help him fall asleep, he wraps his arm around my neck and pulls himself in close. I will undoubtedly get head-butted a few times, but it doesn’t matter.
Last Tuesday, he turned two. I’ve written before about how tough having a newborn was for me, but this stage? Toddlerhood? It’s what I always hoped motherhood would be like. It’s butterflies and rainbows, Lisa Frank as a feeling - a technicolor MDMA trip without the comedown. Of course, I get my fair share of meltdowns and tantrums, but the tenderness of this age far outweighs the challenges.
I love this stage. Love, love, LOVE it, and because I love it so much, I can’t help but think about how and when this time will end. Anytime anything noteworthy happens, a lit…
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