She will call me mom instead of mommy. She will go off to school and be embarrassed by my "I love you"-s. She won't kiss me back and hugs will be seldom. She will fight for her independence and she won't need me to kiss her ouchies to make them better. I think about the probabilities and I want her to fly and soar as high as her wings will allow and discover everything wonderful and all the things that aren't that leaves her appreciating the wonderful things surrounding her when she sees and feels them. Even if they break my heart because I won't be able to fix all things imperfect for her.
For now, however, all I see are the grand possibilities for her and while watching her grow into this whole other person tugs at my heart strings more often than not because I wish I had the ability to stall time for my own selfish reasons, I'm excited to hear her speak, put words together that she didn't know even a month ago, work on puzzles, cop up an attitude, get stubborn for the things she absolutely must have and I take comfort in the fact that at age 2, at 12, at 20 - in some way, no matter what her age, she will always remain my baby - if not A baby.
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