I know it’s only going to get better.
But I can’t get over how amazing it is to watch Emma play, or “get to work” in her UFO. There’s a wonderful intensity in her eyes as she pushes and pulls on the appendages sticking out of the saucer. She tugs and twists them, determined to master what sits before her.
The Little One’s awareness is also quickly developing — she knows when someone enters the room and she quickly spins around when she hears a familiar voice. Her smile is captivating and hearing her laugh congers a feeling of pure joy.
She’s taken to Berkeley and Greta, reaching for them when they come over to say hi. Her hands reach out and she feels their fur, scratching their backs and tugging on their ears. She loves cold bottles and wants to see and feel everything around her. My hair often becomes a rope for her to tug on and dangling earrings catch her eye (and you’d better watch out if they’re within her grasp!).
My friends who were parents long before I had told me that there was no way to describe the joy of parenthood. And I think they’re dead-on.
Even for someone who gets paid to write, I can’t possibly capture with words my love for Emma, how she makes me feel after a long day’s work or how I melt when she smiles and laughs.
