for when there's only photos

Today is one of those days with the perfect temperature and the perfect breeze. I followed Liesel around this afternoon, letting her decide where to go and what do to. She picked dandelions and called them flowers, which I confess makes me very very happy. I remember picking bouquets of them when I was a child and feeling sorry for the beautiful little flower called a weed who everyone hated. Inevitably she found her way to dangerous bridge and I would get a little panicky as my mind did somersaults choosing between various forms of fate until I turned it off and just held onto her. She threw rocks over the edge; every time the drops of water defied gravity and landed on our heads she smiled and said, "woah!" and chucked another one in. 

Now while I'm waiting for her nap to end and feeling impatient because the day is too perfect to be wasted inside, I suddenly feel overcome with dread. I feel anxious that this is all going to end too soon, and one day I'll look back at her perfect little toddler face and curly pigtails and wish I could travel back in time to when I was her mom and the best thing in her world. And wish I could listen to her say "luv woo" and have no idea what it means. And zip her up in the sleeping bag at night after she is dead asleep and marvel at her creative sleeping  positions and slumbering face. And feel her little fingernails dig into my triceps when I carry her.   And listen to her say, "mmmmm!" after every bite of bean and chicken soup. And listen to her jump on the bed for an hour before finally falling asleep. And see her point to a helicopter or find a climbing shoe and say, "dada!" And test her limits for the 10th time after I tell her to draw only on paper and not eat the crayon. And follow her around while she picks dandelions and throws rocks in the river. Just please don't ever  let me get too busy or tired to love this.