Monday, September 28, 2009

A Letter to my Daughter

My Laylabug,

You're two. I can't believe you're TWO. I mean it seems like only seconds ago we were praying you'd make it to the next ultrasound or the first contraction at full term and now you're two. There are still little signs of that baby I saw so sweet and chubby in the NICU that first day. Your bright and curious eyes, your charming smile, the sweet way that your whole body melts when you sleep but you are so much more now then that little baby you were then.
I was so scared for you for so long and now you have decided that instead of worrying about being alive you will live your life in a such a way that NO ONE will doubt that you are full of the finest things life offers. If alive had a picture, it would be a blurry one someone tried to capture of you.
You hop like a tigger down the stairs and jump with both feet of every step and into every puddle. You demand quality time, good attention and a taste of people's chocolates. You're full of stories with words that overflow into one another and wild hand motions that convey a life so adventerous and full that it can't be contained.
You are a huge source of entertaining stories. When I told you that I had a baby in my tummy you told me not to eat babies or I'd be in big trouble...then you giggled. You are always giggling. In fact that only thing that you do more than giggle, is run. You run every where. You run just to run. You yell run and then take off like a cat speeding around corners... just to get to the other side of a room...and then you giggle again.

You're also very imaginative. You're always pretending to eat something from your pretend kitchen or to call Nannie on your little plastic cell phone. You act out scenes from your favorite movies and you know all the best lines. The other day you gave your best Winnie the Pooh impersonation and I personally think that they should change the line from "oh bother" to "oh brother" because your way is much cuter.
You are full of playful tests which push us to our limits. How many times can a small person steal your chair or your drink before it's not funny? I don't know. But I'm sure you're trying to find out.
You love movies and stories. You love to color and write. You can count to 13, spell your whole name, sing several songs, and know several of your letters. A genius, your Nannie says. But you don't have to be brilliant, because no amount of brilliance will outshine the star that God put in you. The brilliant little star of life that shines out of you where-ever you go. You outshine any child I've ever known.
It's odd to me the way I look at you now and I see that baby I used to snuggle with in bed. And when I do I pull all your lanky toddler limbs closer and smell your sweet head and I almost forget how grown up you are, then you kiss me and sigh and two seconds later you give me a "no no no that's enough you stoppa that" before you squirm away.
That's what being your mom is like. It's like little tiny moments that try and wiggle away before I can catch them and keep them forever. But though I might miss a few moments while I'm chasing you and trying to keep you safe... I will always love you and I will be keeping you forever. Every memory. In my own little LaylaBug Catcher Jar.
Love, Mommy


Layla's Nana said...


Grammi Teri said...

Made my cry again. And get chills. Twas lovely.

Mel said...

That was sweet!! What a little girl all grown up like that!!