I yove you, Mommy.
I'm a yucky boy, Mommy.
I don't yike green beans, Mommy.
Will you pway wif me, Mommy?
I never pushed Monsoon to say his L's. I knew, one day, he'd make the sound. There was no need to point out that he said some words differently. No need to embarrass him. He'd get it eventually. Quite frankly, I found his version endearing. It was like the last stone keeping him a clunky, tiny child.
Today, he said "I llla-la-love you, Mommy." And I wanted to go back to yesterday. Yesterday he yoved me. Yesterday he was yucky. Today... he's lucky. Tomorrow, he might like it if I play wif him.
It's strange the things we hold onto as parents. Those were things that made me smile, from the inside out, every time I heard them. His non-L's. I think it's also one more thing we failed to capture on film, and now it's too late. It's gone forever, just like high chairs and strollers, sippy cups and baby beds. Much like my sanity, apparently, since I can't seem to stop feeling melancholy lately.
Sanity or Patience: choose one.
Do you ever have one of those moments where you think, "HA! I am sane!" Then you step in dog poo with your bare feet and remember it was your idea to get the puppy...?