To my beautiful baby Caid: You are 14 weeks today. It's also my last week home with you before I resume working. While I'm excited to get back to my classes, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to stay home with you just a little longer. Say, oh, I dunno -- five years?
My heart aches when I look at how big you've gotten. You have doubled your weight from birth, you're starting to roll over and doing your best to sit up from lying down. I purposely took this picture with your shirt drool soaked so I would remember this place you're in right now. Also in this place, tracking me everywhere, kicking your legs in the bath, using your hands to start to hold and pull. I love watching your mind work: after you get over the shock of me holding an ever changing handsome baby in the mirror, you laugh and study our reflection. Your laugh is contagious and your cry makes my stomach flop, but my heart soars with making it stop.
Like every parent before me, I can't believe you're mine. When I leave you, I can't wait to be back with you. You are pure magic. My baby.