Baby's Breath

I am going to start a new weekly post dedicated to Beatrice. As she grows up and as we contemplate another child down the road, I am starting to panic that I won't remember all of the beautiful details that make up our memories together. My memory is junk anyways so this will be a way for me to chronicle some of the smaller moments that will for sure be lost in the recesses of my rotting brain. I have kept a baby book for her since before she was born but it really just focused on waiting for the baby, then the first year of major highlights. I'll tag everything here so that I can easily pull it up and show it to her when she's older.

Beatrice, a couple of weeks ago, while I was rocking you at bedtime, you pressed your face against my cheek. The only time you sit still or snuggle is when you are really tired. I kissed your soft little lips. You kissed me back, with your little wet tongue (you kiss like a little French baby.) Then I rubbed my nose against yours, back and forth, back and forth. You looked at me curiously, not sure about this sensation. Then you started to move your head back and forth and pretty soon we were in sync, Eskimo kissing the night away. You smooth skin smelled of a day of play and a cool bath. Your warm breath rested between us... so delicious.

Now on nights when I put you to sleep, we spend a minute or two Eskimo kissing. You've become a pro, holding my face with your fat little hands. I know this won't last much longer. The novelty will wear off. I'll try in vain to get you to rub that cute little nose against mine. There will be some inadvertent head butting until I finally give up and give in to the fact that this too has passed. And that's OK. I will patiently await our next tender moment.