growing like children
Today finds me in an interesting confluence of notable dates: it’s Friday the 13th, it’s a full moon day, and it’s my daughter’s second birthday. It’s a little unfortunate that she will never have a birthday on a Friday with a full moon ever again, since according to my calculations that won’t happen again until June 13th, 2225. If she were to make it she would be 213 years old, and it would be well within her rights to complain about the declining quality of the rising generation’s grammar.
Of course, it’s hard to imagine anyone living that long, and experts seem to disagree to varying extents as to whether it will be possible in the next couple of centuries to get over the 150-year mark; I’m just glad she’s made it to two years, and like any parent I hope she outlives us. After having a child the infinite range of possible disasters, accidents, illnesses, conditions, and freak occurrences that can befall your little one becomes a poignant, ever-present niggle in the mind; this is why it’s hard not to go grey-haired after having kids.
The hardest part of seeing them reach another birthday is the realization that the fight isn’t over; I’m not certain that it ever will be. Every day for the rest of my life I’ll be leaving for work knowing that I won’t be there to keep her safe. And when I come home for the next sixteen I sincerely wish nothing more than to see her and Mme. Ross when I get there — safe and secure.
The best part though, is watching her develop. Getting bigger, stronger, more beautiful and intelligent, and the cute things she says and does are something to laugh about while I’m at work.
Kids are the best. 🙂