I can't wait for him to get past this phase. My son climbs on the table and dumps everything he finds there. He throws his food over the side of his high chair. He screeches when he doesn't get what he wants. He pulls ornaments and lights off the tree. It'll be great when he learns to listen, when he has some words, when he's older...
Wait, what am I saying?! At the most, I will have only one year with my one-year-old. Out of how ever many years God chooses to give my son, I will still have only one year with my one-year-old. And how ever old I may live to be, even if I live to be a hundred and one, I will still have only one year with my one-year-old.
It may be difficult. It may be frustrating. It may be exhausting. But I don't want to miss any of it.
It's my one year, only one year, my only one year, with my one-year-old.
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