You head out into your world with optimism. You say "Oh KAY!!!" and "Let's GO!!!" with such enthusiasm. When I hear your bright tone of voice, I make the surprising realization that maybe you're copying my tone of voice, and maybe I'm an optimist too.
Your index finger wakes me up each morning, when you poke my face and say "NOSE!" You're too matter of fact for 6 a.m. Although I've had this nose for my entire life, motherhood allows me to match your excitement about the wonders of my face. Sometimes your expressions are calling it like you see it. Doggy! Kittay! Sky! Nose! Oatmeal! Sometimes your expressions are more complex and I realize that you are becoming a real person with depth and quirks. You say "all done!" when we play a song that you don't like. If it's not LMFAO or The Lumineers, it's "all done!" You're an excellent dance partner, even though you put your hand down my shirt and smirk. You know what you're doing.
I write down a memory every day in this book. Ferris has a cute mullet. Ferris put plastic spoons in the tripod for an hour and a half. Why is it that humans have to endure painful moments, while these lovely ones evaporate into the past?
I would raise 18 babies, if I knew each one would be a Ferris.
Ferris, your papa and I love you with all the cliches that have ever been spoken. I express it by taking a million pictures, because each version of you is worth keeping forever. I express it by putting the camera down, because you love an unadulterated view of my face just as much as I love yours.