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What I hope my son remembers when he looks back

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I step over Incredibles, drums, books and cars. I clean up crumbs, spills and lunch. I walk slower, wake up earlier and worry more.

I clean up puke, snot and pee that somehow doesn’t make it into the toilet. I schedule haircuts, doctor visits, swim lessons and play dates. I organize backpacks, snack drawers and all the socks.

With every fort blanket I fold... With every stuffed animal I get out from under a bed... With every milk cup I clean... And with every single super hero I memorize...

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A clock ticks.

And when the feet thud across the floor upstairs, and when the quiet, sleepy voice whispers, “I just love you."

I hear it loud and clear.

The soft tick tock of a clock that is synced to the center of my being – where he was first loved – tells me that time is passing.

Time is passing. Time is passing.

One day, there won’t be Bubble Guppies or games. There won’t be costumes or special blankets.

And one day, he will look back on all of the days that bled together and know...

that he was loved beyond all measure.

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