A little voice behind me says, “Give me that picture. I want to look at me as a baby.” I giggle and grab the 5×7 yellow frame off the shelf and hand it to my 4 year old daughter. She walks around with it, treating it as her prized possession and then it starts.
“Is that me as a baby?’
“Are you holding me?”
“Did you feed me milk when I was a baby?”
“Did my head fit in daddy’s hand when I was a baby/”
“Did you rock me to sleep when I was a baby?”
“Was I small, with small fingers and toes when I was a baby?”
Every time these questions start, I can’t help but get a little teary. Her joy at seeing herself so small just makes me smile. And she does this about once a week. Sadly, as the third child, I do not have very many printed images of my beautiful angel. Her requests to see herself when she was little often leads to scrolling through my iphone for all of those in between moments of her life. But the two images of her 7 day old self, remain the ones that she visits frequently, and cherishes, and asks her sweet questions.
“Is that me as a baby…”
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This is why I do what I do.
{Special credit to my husband for clicking the trigger on this one}
