Some of the things I want to remember forever about my baby boy:
The way he says "Sorry Mama" when he makes me upset. Even though usually I want to pull a George Costanza and retort, "You can stuff your sorries in a sack," it still makes my heart melt, even though I usually don't show it.
When he really, really likes something, he'll screech, "I wuuuuv that!"
When he pours water from the bathtub into the big cup I use to rinse his hair and announces that he has made me a "Diet Coke with ice." Then I have to pretend to drink it. One night I drank five huge cups of "diet coke," loving every minute of it.
We have a nightly ritual in which I name off his body parts and how much I love them, and he always whispers, "Again."
When I am cooking, he will grab the whisk he pulled apart months ago, so that all the different spokes go every which way, from the drawer and pretend he is cooking too.
When we rub noses together.
When we sing together. "Rubber Ducky" and "C is for Cookie" from Sesame Street, the ABC song, and "Na Na Na Na, Hey Hey, Goodbye."
When he counts from one to twenty like the Count from Sesame Street and ends it with a rousing "Ah haa haaa haaaaa."
And a million other little things that make him my special guy.