Her constant requests to go outside to play, or dance and spin around the kitchen, or be picked up for the fiftieth time of the day. One day, she will stop asking.
Today, I will hold on to two a little tighter, a little longer, because too quickly it will slip away. I will breathe her in in the morning when she smells of lotion and soap and again in the afternoon when peanut butter and play-doh are stuck in her hair. When she points outside, I will bundle us both up and open the door, whether I want to or not. When we come in, I will leave the pile by the door so I can see her red boots as we dance around the kitchen until she falls asleep, heavy in my tired arms. I will get up again and do it the next day while I still can.
I wish you a day filled with good things to miss. Feel free to share them with me.