Time flies… you’ll be turning 2 today.
I remember when I held you in my arms two years ago, after 12 hours of induced labour. I recall the panic I felt when I was told that you had the umbilical cord wound around your neck, when I saw your purple face. The relief when I heard you cry out loud. You were really tiny then, having arrived 3 weeks early.
Since then, I watched as you first learnt to flip, to cruise (you crawled only for a day before you decided you preferred to be on your feet), then learnt to walk and now to run and jump. You were always a determined little person who never gave up, who seemed always to be able to find ways of getting around problems.
You are cheeky and mischievous, with a ready smile for those near and dear. It’s your smile and that sparkle in your eye that gets you out of trouble most days; that, and the adorable way you go “uh-oh” after each episode of mischief. I cannot resist hugging you when you do that.
I love how you dance to music, turning round and round, bopping up and down. You love numbers and colours, and never fail to point them out every time we go out. I always chuckle when you go “Awww… man!”, done with a flourish of your hand, just like Swiper in Dora the explorer.
There is a sensitive and sweet side to you, which we see from time to time. You sit quietly beside your big sister when she is upset, and try to comfort her with hugs and little kisses. When you run out of ideas to comfort her, you run to me for help.
I know I will miss the way you cling on to me when strangers approach you, tugging on my skirt and hanging on tight. The way you turn my face towards you when you want to talk to me. The way you pat my back when I carry you. The way you call “Muuuuuuummmmmmmyyyyyyyyy, night night” at night in the dark, just before bedtime. I cherish every moment that I get to spend with you: smiles, tantrums and all.
Sometimes, I wish I could stop the clock, to hold on to every moment. If only I could keep everything on videotape. I know that some of these memories will fade, to be replaced by others as you grow. So I’m writing some of them here, in the hope that I’ll be able to read this with you in the future.
Happy birthday my dear little G. I love you.