I love Marissa. I love this age. I love staying home with her. I love watching her play. I love it when she asks me to play something with her. I love listening to her sing. I love listening to her playing "mommy" with her two babies. I love her running commentary on every noise, every movement, every object she sees. I even love her never-ending stream of "Why, Mommy? What did you do, Mommy? Why? What did you do? Why? What did you do?" I love the full conversations we can finally have, even when they don't really make sense. I love her memory of every little thing we do on a daily basis. I love her excitement when Daddy comes home from work. I love her excitement when she hasn't seen me for a bit and we are reunited. I love to watch her excitement when she discovers something. I love her look of pride when she accomplishes something "all by mySELF!"
Even when the day seems to drag slowly by, I love spending it with her. This week off from work has been wonderful for both of us. Her new favorite game says it all: I sit on the floor with my arms outstretched. She stands across the room with her arms outstretched. Then she runs as fast as she can, collides into my arms, and I kiss her cheeks over and over til she wipes it off. "More favorite game, Mommy?"