These are the days I will wish I had back.
This time when it was just us, our small little family, waiting for another a half a world away.
My four-year old bundle of sweet chaos, with sticky fingers that touch everything.
A dirt-lover who scoops it up by the fistful, rubs it all over his bare belly, and declares, “I’m the sandman, Mommy!”
An adventurer with an imagination as tall as the sky, pointing at the cute old couple walking down the sidewalk and exclaiming very, very loudly, “Look! It’s two T-Rexes! Run before they eat us!”
My four-eyed monster with crooked, smudged glasses that slide down his nose so it is perpetually scrunched.
My shameless exhibitionist, who not only pees in our backyard, but our neighbor’s too. Seriously. Boys.
A young Picasso, who hasn’t quite figured out that marking up our walls with Sharpie and crayon does not make Mommy happy.
A fearless daredevil, who jumps from heights he should not jump from and is never ever without scrapped knees or bruised shins.
My little man, who wants to know when we get to put the heart on our Adoption Map so we can bring home his brother and sister. (He thinks he’s getting both.)
The giggles and the after-dinner wrestling matches in our living room. The ones I think are far too rough, but Daddy knows his boy’s love language best.
He is the Hulk who will smash you.
The puppy who will nuzzle you.
The Veliciraptor who will hunt you.
The tornado who can destroy an entire room in 2 seconds flat.
“Will you cuddle with me, Mommy?” he asks before bedtime.
I wish I could say my answer was always yes.
Because someday, he will stop asking.
And I will want to go back to these days.
When he was four and crazy and wild and innocent and so unbelievably, unintentionally funny.
I will want to crawl into his bed and listen as he talks us both to sleep.
Let’s Talk: What days do you wish you could go back to?
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