Dear Little Fish,
You’ve been a part of this world for over 6 months. I don’t want to speak for you, but it seems like you really dig it here. In the last month or so you’ve gone from blob baby to the nosiest baby on the planet. You have to check out everything. Everything. Lights! The dog! Laughter! Random plastic thing!
Watching you watching the world? It’s pretty much the best thing ever.
It’s hard for me to even write you this letter because I’m so smitten with you right now. I kind of can’t think about it without crying. You’ve made both your dad and me into total, hopeless saps.
For example, I cannot read the following books to you without crying:
Guess How Much I Love You
On the Day You Were Born
That last one? Tear jerker. I mean, I sob at the end every time. It’s ridiculous.
I think a lot about the gifts you’ve given me just by being alive. The greatest of these, perhaps, is that you’ve helped me to live in the present moment. Before you, I looked forward to weekends and vacations. I was always onto the Next Big Thing. Now, I look forward to your next smile. Who needs to wait for the weekend when there is joy right now, right in front of me? Of course, there was always joy right in front of me, but loving you has helped me to truly see it.
After all, I know that every moment with you is fleeting. You’re growing and changing so fast. The baby you are today is entirely different than the baby you were yesterday. And one of these tomorrows, very soon, you won’t even be a baby anymore.
But for now you’re still a baby. My baby. And I love you with all of my heart.