Holding your place.

That little face that is only mine.

You're getting older, you're getting better with Matilda. You're getting better with me, if only slightly. You're holding your place steady.

There have been times when I wasn't sure what you wanted and I had to leave you erupting on the floor by yourself. There have been times that I turned right around and hurried down the hall toward you, scooped you into me and sat on the floor and rocked. You liked that part.

You're tanky and tough and you remember so much for your age. You remember to tell Daddy when he gets home from work that "Mommy, mimmies (swimming), me, no no", which refers to much earlier in the day when I dropped Grace off at the pool with a friend and you couldn't go. I mean seriously, eight hours later?

You have a nonsense word, "Dahguy!" that you use for most scenarios. It works for everything. In place of "yucky, that one, watering the garden, (and any other word)". Dad and I say it to each other all the time. He calls and says he's going to be home late and I reply, "DAHGUY!". I ask him if he wants a sandwich and he says... well, you know the rest. It's right up there with "meemink (binky)" in your frequently used words pool.

So we take it a day at a time. I try to understand you and witness you changing before my eyes, a little bit each day. I love to talk to you about bugs. That's a subject that gets you going. Or birdies, bottles, babies and bees.

My fierce little thing. Your mother sits back and bites her fingernails in heavy anticipation of what you will someday become.