Remember this moment: I woke up at the ripe hour of 5pm last Sunday, recovering from a week of overnight shifts and sleep deprivation. I groggily walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where you and daddy were playing. Books and objects scattered everywhere. Pots and pans and spatulas, you’re favorite ‘toys’ right now. You gave me a look of excitement when you saw I was no longer sleeping, but it doesn’t last long. You’re so busy these days, so I’m not offended. Instead I tried to give you a quick hug or squeeze your shoulder or run my fingers through your thin blonde hairs as you run off - I’m not sure which I chose that day - then sat down on the couch while I continued to wake up for the day/night.
That’s when daddy offered to make me coffee. Never do either of us grind up coffee beans alone anymore. Nope, for months you’ve wanted to help turn the grinder on, even tap the sides and shake it to make sure all the grounds are grinded properly.
You’re such a helper. I don’t want to forget that.