I can hear you snoring as you lay next to me. We’ve been sharing the same bed ever since your baba went to Kuwait. Well, we shared the same bed before, but now without him it’s our bed.
You’re doing so many new and wonderful things at eighteen months. Your genius, sensitivity, and ability to communicate astounds me. Omi taught you how to set the evening dinner table with napkins. You soon learned that mommy comes home shortly after the table is set. So when you miss me at 10am in the morning, you run to the kitchen, grab some napkins and set the table, expecting me to walk through the front door. You’re so very innocent and smart.
You are a dancing queen. And yes. You got your moves from me.
You can now say auto, hotdog, bon-bon, bubbles, Allah, baby, eins (one), Opa, Oma, Umma, all sorts of animal noises and just last night you crawled around pretending to be a dog. You then asked me to pretend to be a dog with you. I’m thrilled that I got to see your first expression of imagination.
Then overnight, while you were having nightmares, you suddenly sat up, made the sign for elephant and trumpeted loudly. I’ve never laughed so hard at 3am.
You tickle and hug everyone, make up games, ask us to sit on the floor with you to play Simon Says, and dance to ring-around-the-rosie with your stuffed monkey. When older babies take your toys, you shrug your shoulders and happily grab another toy. You terrorize others by ripping their soothers out of their mouths. That’s my girl.
You always look so happy when I dance with you and twirl you around the room. It’s one of my favourite things to do.
You will pray in the middle of a mall if it moves you to do so. It makes me proud and brings smiles to strangers.
It may not seem like it on the surface, but I know you miss your baba. It’s ridiculously cute that you point to the Skype icon and say, “baba! baba!”
Please stop hitting Omi when you are tired at night. She loves you and cares for you all day long. It’s not funny. Time outs are not fun, even though you think they are.
Don’t miss me too much. You’ve already moved into my bed. You don’t need to sleep on me all night long or wake up every hour to nurse. I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere. And inshallah never will.