You're a toddler

You’re a toddler.

And there are a few things you want to tell your mother.

You’re a little older now, but everything still feels new.

You don’t understand why things don’t work, why you have to share, or why sometimes you have to wait.

And you especially do not understand your emotions.

Things feel big, often. Too big for your little body.

It doesn’t make you feel good.

So you turn to her.

She’s your safe space.

She always has been.

You like it when she gets down to your level, and speaks with you softly.

That makes all those ugly feelings easier.

You are no longer a baby.

You know that.

But you still feel so small in this big world.

You feel like that same baby you were only a little while ago.

You still love being held by her. Whenever she gets a chance.

Being carried is your favourite.

You see things from her level, and her at your level. You think everything about that is beautiful.

You still wake during the night sometimes. Because you want to be close to her.

And actually, you don’t like going to sleep much at all.

Because things are becoming so fun as you can do more, and you don’t want that to end.

You still like it when she prioritises you over all the things she seems to do around the house. You are learning the world and want to experience every part of that with her.

It’s hard being your age sometimes.

You want so desperately to be bigger so you can understand a little better.

Or smaller so everyone you don’t know seems to be more understanding.

But you know you are in good hands.

Those hands that held you first - they can handle anything.

And she makes it feel like it’s her pleasure.

Like you are her pleasure.

That’s why you chose her to be your mother in the first place.