Big Brains, Little Bodies

My daughter never ceases to amaze me. 
If there was ever a little person who wants to do big things, she's it.
Shortly before her second birthday, when her vocabulary suddenly gushed forth, one of her many phrases was "I can do so many things!"
No argument there.
Every milestone she would pass within a month after this would bring forth that same statement.  She was a wonder even to herself.
An eager desire to please.  An even bigger urge to do.
"I can do it myself" is fast becoming the order of the day in our house.
And if she can't, she at least wants to try.
So we let her.
But despite all this independence, there comes a small desire on her part to remain a baby.
Like when we go downstairs first thing after she gets up, to go to the bathroom.  Then afterwards, we go back upstairs to get her dressed.
Every so often, she'll stand at the foot of the stairs and turn to me with her arms up and her tiny face turned upwards, her bright blue eyes meeting my own.
"Carry," she pleads.
I sigh at the thought of my never-ending backaches.  "Honey, you're getting a little big for this."
"Carry me Daddy," she persists, now standing on her toes trying harder than ever to reach me.
Another sigh.  "OK," I say as I bend down to scoop up her ever-growing little body that makes what used to seem like a little loaf of bread now akin to a huge sack of flour.
Wearily, I pick her up and trudge up the steps, but not without noticing her nuzzling her head against my shoulder and as close to my neck as possible, clasping both of her arms around neck and shoulder.
At that moment, I feel my back growing a little stronger.
Less painful. 
Because I know moments like these won't last forever, and soon all I'll have are the memories.


NEXT WEEK:  Gone fishin'