You won’t remember the days you made me hide in the bathroom for a few minutes to collect myself.
You won’t remember the nights you woke up crying (multiple times), when you were cutting your teeth and the times I was laying on the sofa the following day, hair unbrushed, still in my PJs, fighting hard not to fall asleep every time I blinked. When you’d cry, unable to settle, and held on to me so tight I could hardly move—or how sometimes I just prayed for you to fall asleep so I could relax, too.
There are many things you will never remember about your childhood. But likewise, many things you will. You’ll remember the times you fell over and I kissed away the ouchies; you’ll remember me holding you and dancing around every room in the house; you’ll remember all the things I taught you, and all the things I am yet to teach.
You are almost two, and you are intelligent, funny, sharp and testing. But I wouldn’t have you any other way. Because you are the light of my life, and you have made me who I am. Everything you do astounds me, and I am constantly gobsmacked by your intelligence and how quick you are learning. I love seeing how you interact with the world, how respectful you (almost always) are, even whilst you are still so young; I love seeing myself in you and watching you pick up on my facial expressions makes my heart burst with pride.
I promise to be your confidant and your comfort always. I promise to give you a life that makes you happy. I promise to hold your hand through every mile stone and every big moment—from your first exams and your final exams to your first heartbreak. I promise to wipe away your tears and make your ouchies go away. And on nights you can’t sleep whether you’re two or twenty two, I promise to be there as your comfort. As long as you need me.
And when the time inevitably comes when you don’t take comfort in my arms or cuddling up to my tummy, I promise to always support, love and protect you in everything you do. Now and always.