Being totally ok with having smeared hand and mouth prints all over our french doors. How the dogs sit patiently under the high chair during meals. The sheer volume of your cries when you aren’t pleased with a situation. What it feels like in my heart when I go into your room each morning and you rub your eyes and smile at me, scrunching up your entire face. The amount of bottles I wash. The time I spend cutting fruit into tiny pieces. The way I scrutinize everything I buy you. The feeling that washes over me when I hear you cooing and babbling to yourself while you play. The guilt. Oh, the guilt. And the worries. The way I slowly sway any time I am standing, an unbreakable instinct even when I’m not holding you. How sharp your nails are. Your fascination with necklaces and glasses. The feeling when you fall asleep in my arms, and how it’s the only time in my life I’ve ever known I’m exactly where I should be. All the ways you have changed me to be a better version of myself. The moments when it’s just us and we communicate in our own completely special way.