You are so little now. But so much bigger than you used to be. Sometimes you fall asleep in my arms, or on my bed, or in your high chair, and I carry you to your crib. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and your long legs stretch so much further than I ever expect them to. I am always surprised that you no longer tuck into my arms. I am glad, because you're so funny and busy now that you're big, but it's also a loneliness for something that's gone. But, it's strange, because your infancy was, like, JUST here, it takes work to wrap my mind around the fact that, now that it's gone, it's gone forever.
Oh, my Posy. You talk so much. You have so much to say, and I love just looking at your face as you look, by turns, surprised and emphatic and happy. And there is nothing happier than you when you're happy. You laugh and look around and make everyone around you laugh too. I laugh as I walk down the street and people look at us and laugh with us. You wave more now, and it makes people on the street feel like a million bucks. You're so democratic with your good graces: checkers at the market, our friends, old men on the street, teenagers on the bus, dad. I love to watch how people change when you pay attention to them. Before I had you and Edie, I knew it was charming to see a baby smile, but watching people watching you, I realize that when you smile at people, they smile back like they're looking at the face of God.
You and Edie love each other so much, and I can't think of a single thing in my life that makes me feel as happy and accomplished. You two are not always on the same page at the same time, sometimes all Edie wants is to love you and kiss you, but you're busy with something only you know. And sometimes you follow Edie around and she yells at you to give her some space (which I think she's heard me say). But, a lot of the time, your chubby arms wrap around her round belly, and she leans down and kisses your head or your cheek. You two take splashy baths together, and Edie begs us to let you sleep with her, so she can cuddle you.
Posy, your hair is always in your eyes. You love to be outside more than anything--you run at a full toddler sprint for your coat and shoes whenever anyone mentions going for a walk. You hate to be left behind, and cry bitterly on the days that are too cold for dad to walk you to school with Edie.
If I'm not paying enough attention to you, you grasp my face and turn it straight at yours. You mash your face against mine, which is your version of a kiss. Your chubby arms wrap around my neck and I know that even when your arms are long and thin and doing other things, I will feel them as an echo. You love me, Posy-pie, and, like those people on the bus, being loved by you is like hearing the voice of God say my name.