At four months and counting, Tori’s changing every day. She’s constantly discovering new things – so fast, I can hardly keep up. And as much as I try to convince myself I’ll never forget these early days, I know I will.
I’m sure I won’t always remember how, when I lean over her crib in the morning, she throws her arms open wide and gives me a face-splitting grin.
Or the way she giggles when I change her diaper, so happy to be clean again.
Or the conversations we have at the breakfast table, her babbling in her high chair, me pretending to know what she’s saying.
I’ll forget how cute she was the week she discovered her tongue, sticking it out every time she got a chance.
And how delighted I was when she blew her first raspberry, spit bubbling all over her clothes.
And how I almost cried the first time she laughed – giggling as I bounced her in the air.
I won’t remember how her chubby little knees wobble when she “stands” on my lap.
Or the game we play sitting on the couch – I put her on her tummy on my chest, she flips herself off – over and over and over again.
Her sweet baby smell will probably fade from my sensory memory. As will the feel of her warm little body turning into a dead weight on my shoulder as she falls asleep.
The memories might fade, to be replaced with newer, brighter versions. But at least now, I’ll always have a written record to jog my brain.