Today you are twenty eight months old.

Lately, when I watch you from a distance, I try to imprint your image onto my brain. Not that I'll be comparing you to your sister, because I can't, really, you'll always be two and two thirds years ahead of her, but I want to be able to see you two side by side, at the same age, years apart.

I want to remember every thing about this age right now. Your funny insights, your laugh, your screaming, your voice, your tiny body that still fits into my arms and wants to be rocked like a baby every so often.

You are one tough act to follow.

Happy Twenty Eighth Monday.