“Too many people grow up. That’s the real trouble with the world, too many people grow up. They forget. They don’t remember what it’s like to be 12 years old. They patronize, they treat children as inferiors. Well, I won’t do that” ~ Walt Disney
My dearest E.,
Since my last post here, I’ve realized how grown up you have become. The amazing rate of your growth astounded me so immensely that I can barely put into words how proud I am of you, and how much more I love you with each passing day. At the tender age of 17 months, you are intelligent and wise, compassionate and loving. I honestly do not know how you’ve learnt this. I’d like to think these traits are inborn and not learnt.
When I look at you these days, sometimes I want to just shout, “No, please, don’t grow up so quickly!” A huge part of me wants you to be a little girl, my sweet baby forever. So that you will always love me unconditionally and depend on me for your every single need. Another part of me reprimands myself for being selfish, to want to keep you this way to satisfy my own need for love. But you’re growing up, and beautifully. I cannot ask for more.
I cannot express in words how your antics make me laugh, make me cry, make me want to freeze in eternity these beautiful moments we have together. I love it when you brush my hair for me before we sleep at night, the way you stroke my face and kiss me when I sing you a lullaby. I love it when you insist on feeding yourself, and get angry with me for trying to help you out. I love it when you dance with such abandon when you hear music or your favourite songs. I love it when you call me Fatty, I don’t care how rude it is! I love it when you jump up and down and shriek when you see me after a long day. I love it when you try to bang the keys of my piano, your eyebrow furrowed as you try to stretch your little fingers over the smooth ivory keys. I love it when you’re angry and tired and throw a tantrum. I love how you’re gentle and attentive when I’m ill, it’s as if you know how bad I feel inside and out, and you stroke my hand to comfort me. How can I say this- that no matter what you do- I love you! I love what you do, each and every single thing.
I love watching you grow up. But promise me this one thing, E.?- that no matter how much growing up you do, that you will always remember and cherish your childhood, and know, that it is ok to miss being a little baby and that sometimes, acting like a child is perfectly normal because you keep your memories and learn to be more human.