THE SOUNDTRACK OF TODDLER PITTER-PATTER
I have a new favorite album in life, and it might be my favorite of all-time. The soundtrack is disguised in the mundane but is more beautiful than any classic symphony or new record album released. The sound of little feet running across the hardwood floor, the echoes of gleeful giggles over little curiosities, the faint calling from a high-pitched voice during a game of hide-and-seek and the indistinguishable toddler babble as she plays by herself with her play kitchen – it is all too beautiful to capture with mere words. You have to hear it to love it. In its best description, it is life. It is the soundtrack to parenthood.
My newly minted two-year old shines joy. Pigtails flying and giggles as her go-to, Ellie moves quickly through life, desperate to soak up as much playtime and fun as she can in one day. Her curiosity makes life a continual venture of exploration and her enthusiasm fuels her to run everywhere she wants to go. The pitter-patter of excited feet has become one of my favorite melodies in life, and two years ago, I never knew it could fill my heart with peace and joy the way it does. It is as if, when looking upon my child in those moments, the world freezes and my soul knows that all is well in the world and all will always be.
We have reached the two-year milestone. Two years of inseparability and of countless cuddles and snuggles I would give anything to keep for forever. To take witness of the growth of a tiny human being into a capable and curious little person is something majestic. I never knew parenting could be like this – I never anticipated that loving a little one would teach me how to love the world more or that it would deepen my faith and understanding of God’s intricate role in our lives and in our development. Her personality is unique and God-given – and to see goodness, generosity and gregariousness in her nature lets me see God in her and takes the pressure off parenting. Sure, do I have hopes and dreams for her? Yes. But I rest with contentment in knowing that it is God who has real plans for her – and that makes my heart smile.
Holding hands as a family makes me feel completeness hard to match with anything else. Ellie demands both my hand and my husband’s, and we walk, united. We dance in the kitchen as a family, pray over our meals together and jump on the trampoline in a circle – ring-around-the-rosy style – and connected, I know intimately that family is a gift and I hold on even tighter. She may not want to hold my hand for forever, my hand will always be extended for when she needs it. She may not always call for “mama” or want me around, but I will be here for when she calls. Whatever may happen, I will never forget the soundtrack of her voice and her movements and they will sing to me of love all the days I live.