Today is Maisey's third birthday. But she doesn't know it. Braden is gone so we are waiting to celebrate it when he gets back. I can't deny that I'm feeling rather broken up about it. It's no secret that I love age 2. I sometimes daydream of having all my kids as 2 year olds at the same time and imagine how hilarious dinner would be. I can only imagine feeling happy in Heaven if it somehow includes being the mother of toddlers forever. Sounds crazy, I know.
Maisey has been an absolute delight. I have treasured all the time I have spent with her while the other girls were in school. She has been my sidekick for the last few years as Braden has been gone a good part of her little life. We share a special bond for that reason.
I hope I never forget how it felt to have her run up to me throughout the day, throw her arms around me, and say "Love ya" or "squeeze ya" or hug ya". Or look up at me with hopeful eyes and say, "But can I come wif ya?" She gives the best arm/back/face tickles.
I saw a poem a while ago that I loved and made me think of my sweet little partner:
Hold her a little longer
Rock her a little more
Tell her another story
(You've only told her four)
Let her sleep on your shoulder
Rejoice in her happy smile
She is only two and a half for such a little while
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