A Toddler Tribute

So I'm feeling a little sappy today. Maybe it's this head cold. One of the advantages of being married to a resident in pediatric medicine is that I get to sample all of the upper respiratory infections that the Cleveland area has to offer. I can't think of a winter in which I've gotten to experience so many small but irritating illnesses. I was telling this to a friend who said, "Why not collect them all?" Maybe I should keep a log of the various combinations of symptoms and give them all names like "Phlegm's Disease" or for a multi-symptom illness "The Royal Sampler". At any rate, the last few days I've been taking things a little slower and have come to the realization that my toddlers are really wonderful people. There has been a lot more snuggling on the couch, book reading and general silliness since mommy hasn't felt like doing laundry. It struck me as we were dancing in the kitchen after dinner this evening that someday I will long to see this version of Gabriel and Elijah again. They might be wiggly and loud and naughty. They might paint eachother with vaseline, go surfing on the dishwasher door and empty whole cartons of raw eggs onto the kitchen floor. They might throw tantrums at two in the morning culminating in Gabe banging his head on the heating vent so that it looks like his forehead has been grilled. They might empty the entire contents of their dresser, pull all of the wipes out of the box one by one or build a pyramid out of dirty diapers they retrieved from the diaper pail if there is a five minute delay between waking up and mommy arriving at their bedroom door. But they also might dance in the clumsy, adorable, uninhibited way that only a toddler can. They might run, each only pumping one arm so that they can hold hands. They might say "thank you" for the smallest acts of service or give a high-five. They might sing songs and reenact the time mommy screamed in surprise when she caught them in the kitchen playing in a mountain of rice cereal. They might say "please" and hug you with chubby little arms. They might, at the end of a long day call out "lub loo mommy" just as you are about to shut their bedroom door. They might never grow up- some days I could wish to be so lucky.