Whether it is because my little rascal is throwing a fit so dramatic it could be worthy of an Oscar; whether it is him flashing his million dollar smile as he splashes in his bath; whether it is the impish grin he throws in my direction as he dashes off for a game of catch-me; whether it be his lowered eyes avoiding my firm reproach as he continues to purposefully and precariously perch himself on the back of the couch; whether it is his predictable cranky mood after his daily nap; whether it is the acrobatic routine before bed that makes me think he was a circus performer in a previous life; whether it is the way he runs to me saying MOMMY in his lilting voice EVERYTIME I pick him up from Montessori; whether it is the fact that he goes full tilt 94% of the day while the other 6% he lollygags when I actually need to him to MOVE; whether it be the way his face lights up when I sing; whether it is that it brings tears to my eyes each time he really hurts himself; whether it is that I feel like a mother bear protecting her young when he gets pushed at the playground; whether it is the fatigue that makes me nauseous at times because he won't sleep through the night; whether it be that I get warm and fuzzy observing Cole hugging Tucker with his arms around his big soft head and Tucker responding with the gentlest nudge of his nose; whether it is the fascination that I feel watching Cole explore himself and his place in this world; whether it is the pure joy that oozes from my pores as I listen to him giggle or whether it is the sound of his breathe and the vulnerability he exudes as he sleeps
Whether it be all of these reasons and an infinite many more, I should always remember and respect that becoming a mother is a privilege like no other.
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