My daughter now understands the word “more”.
When I’m feeding her oatmeal and ask her if she wants, “more? more?”,
she now opens her (tiny! adorable! Oh, is it tiny and adorable!) mouth as wide as she can,
as she kicks her legs with excitement.
It’s the first word that I have seen her really, truly, understand,
and it amazes me.
More.
It is so great.
And, it could also be a little dangerous.
Daddy? My bitty baby’s bitty Yorkie needs more hair bows!
More, please?

Mommy? Can we please karaoke that song from Aida one more time?
More, Mommy, more!
Wait.
Who am I kidding?
More bows for toy yorkies
and Karaoke? To Aida?
I’m all for it!
I hope that, for the rest of her life, I can always give her more of the good things that make her happy,
that make her sing,
and that make her kick her legs,
in pure, unbridled joy and thrill.
I love you, baby, and I will always do my best for you to have more.