Every so often when I start to question myself as a parent, I watch the way you walk toward a drinking fountain. I watch you put your tiny shoulders back and proceed in the direction of a destination with confidence. And I nod. In that moment, I know I'm doing ok.
When I start to wonder if I'm giving you enough this or enough that or enough of this, I stop because I know simply asking this questions means I am...enough.
When I start to ask if you feel the depth of my love, I look at your tiny hand clutching mine during the scary part of a movie and I know I am your comfort, I know you feel my love.
When I start to wonder if you will ever understand my concern for your safety, I pause because I know you look to me in all situations for approval and acceptance. I know you're watching me.
When you cry, I swear a tiny part of my heart breaks off.
When you say something adorably sweet, that tiny part repairs.
When you are happy, adrenaline pumps through my veins.
When you are mad, I want it to go away quickly...I want a magic wand with a secret solution to cure your anger because it is wasted energy for both of us.
When you kiss me, I leave the saliva on my face for as long as it will stay. I love the way it feels while I'm meeting with clients or sitting in team meetings...the saliva stuck to my face. I love the way it feels.
I love your tiny fingerprints on our glass doors and the writing on our walls. I love your muddy footprints and fear of the bath tub drain.
I love all of it, Jack. I love it all.
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