The most amazing sound in the world, other than Scarlett's laughter, is hearing her say mama, and have it be directed toward me. Sunday morning I woke up, propped Scarlett against the pillows of our bed bottle in hand, dad by her side, and took advantage of the brief moment of peace and jumped in the shower. Five minutes later I was laughing out loud to the sound of little fists banging on the bathroom door and a tiny voice calling "mama", "mama". I finished my shower and opened the door I saw her smiling face looking up at me as happy as can be, waiting for me to greet her.
She came into the bathroom with me and immediately went to the tub, raising her leg as high as she could to tell me that she wanted to get in. I stripped her down to her diaper and let her spend the next fifteen minutes drawing on the walls with her bath crayons. As I dried my hair, I would casually sneak a peek of this little person, entertaining herself by switching from purple to blue to green and back to purple. Little squiggles on the tile and circles on the floor.
I assume with more kids comes more chaos and less time to appreciate the little things. The artistic creation of blue crayon smeared on the bathroom walls, the sound of "mama" ringing down the hall, the pitter patter of a new walker and the thud of hands catching her inevitable fall. These moments are my life and I cherish every one, because I know some day when Scarlett doesn't want to cuttle or kiss me goodbye or calls me "mom" with a undertone of annoyance in her voice, I can look back and smile at the image of my little girl anxiously banging on the bathroom door yelling "mama".
