You'd think I'd have some mature way of handling this, since numbers one and three were the same way, and we all survived somehow. And then there was Trey. Sweet, simple Trey. Who I forget half of his babyhood because he was just so darn content.
There's no need to bore you with the details. I'm not setting records here or announcing anything new that lots of moms haven't already experienced. But it is a real part of our daily lives. Complimentary at best, and exhausting at it's worst.
So when I spot her playing on her own like this, do I run around as fast as I can accomplishing everything I think about when she is hanging on my leg, crying to be held? Of course not. That would be the smart thing to do.
First, I run for my camera. Seriously, something this rare needs to be documented. I peek in - making sure that she can't spot me (or it's all over) - and marvel at how God gave her to us. I think about how cute she is, and how I love it that she loves books, and I record in my head all of the babbles that come out of her mouth that actually resemble words - just maybe.