Joy is getting you up from your nap, watching pillows fly as you nose-dive into the blankets, laughing so hard you can barely breathe.
How did you get so funny? So sweet? So adorable? So you?
Today when you accidentally hit me with a book, I told you that it hurt mama. You hung your head and tiny little tears welled up in your eyes. You finally looked up at me, signed "hurt" and pushed your little face up for a kiss and pressed your head on my shoulder for a long hug that we both needed.
Oh my baby girl. How did you learn to melt my heart so?
Your little face, your giggle, your burgeoning sense of humor, your sensitive little soul... how is it that I so often get to experience the bliss that comes from having you with me?
When you were born, I am ashamed to admit that I asked "Why me?" I felt slighted, like I'd somehow gotten the short end of the stick. Silly, silly me.
Now when I ask, "Why me?" I ask myself how I managed to get so lucky. I must have done something so, so good.