My kids are always asking me if I loved them more when they were little.I love looking at their photos and talking about how sweet they were and sharing memories of funny or poignant moments with them.
I remember first teeth and them learning to walk and the way they marveled at just about anything new and exciting. They loved being outside and had a cute way of pronouncing things. I loved watching them learn to read and write and draw. I loved making things with them and celebrating countless birthdays, half-birthdays, and holidays with them. Easter eggs and Christmas visits to New York to see the Macy's Santa with the deli breath. "Picnics in the Park" on the Eve of Christmas Eve. Early morning trips to Chincoteague in the summer and the fall and the beginning of a brand new year. Singing children's songs and then '80s songs at the tops of our lungs. Knowing all the words to the Veggie Tales, especially the end theme song from QWERTY.
Career goals: Fashion designer, hotel designer/owner, architect, marine biologist, inventor.
I remember how earnest they were about certain things and how they tried very hard to understand a complex grown-up world with the simple mind of a child. How they tried to share their thoughts on politics or movie stars or books they read.
It's as though now they see that child as someone else instead of a younger and smaller version of themselves.
How could I love that child any more than I love the grown (or growing) version I see at present?
Perhaps the past really is a foreign country...and those little people in the photos and memories are merely the residents, long gone as the years progress.
No, dear children, I couldn't possibly love that little-person version of you more than I love you now...for you are that little person now a bit bigger. And I love that bigger person even more today than I did yesterday.
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