Love You a Little Harder

At night, when I tuck you in, I hold you a little longer
I keep on kissing your cheeks, your hair, your hands, because
Right now, I love you a little harder

In the morning, when I brush your hair, I take a little longer
I want these kinds of moments to last forever, because
I have no way of knowing how many more there may be

When we read a story, play tea party, or share a snack
I can't stop staring at you
When you laugh, when you sing, even when you cry
I want to memorize the feeling
When I hold your hand...
I find it hard to let go

If I hug you a little tighter
If I cuddle with you a little longer
If I just want a little bit more
Of everything

It's because, right now,
I love you a little harder

Toddler No Longer

This blog originated with posts about trying to toilet train a daughter who wouldn't go near the toilet and who responded to the suggestion of underwear as one might respond to sampling toxic chemicals. It detailed escapades like chasing a half-naked child around the backyard while the neighboured looked on with amused interest. But that toddler is all grown up now. For starters, she's now five and a half (and about as tall as your average nine year-old). And then there's the fact that last night, while playing a game where she describes a shape and I have to guess what it is, she said this:

It has no sides and no vertices.

Vertices!?! "How the heck do you know what vertices are?" I asked.

Jacob quickly chastised me for swearing (heck) before Hannah patiently explained that vertices are corners. It's a bit disconcerting to hear your baby use the word vertices so casually.

What's next? Translating Latin texts?