Friday, October 2, 2015


Addie's favorite game has been "Tackle" lately. As in, "Let's play Tackle! I want to tackle you!"

It involves Keith and I each sitting on the floor of her room with about three feet of space between us.

She starts in one of our laps and then runs and flings herself into the arms of the other.

She squeals and giggles.

She lets her entire body go limp and soft with trust at the collision of her little body into our bigger, stronger arms.

She mock-wails in protest as we catch her and hold her tight.

She howls with laughter as we snatch the back of her nightgown or trip and tangle her legs to foil her attempts at tackling the other parent.

We pretend-fight over her, over her love, over her snuggles and she chooses sides according to her pliable, fickle, ever-changing will.

She launches herself and lands in our arms over, and over, and over again.

Hair flying, feet flailing, voice rising, she is wildness and freedom, joy and delight.

She loves playing Tackle even more than she loves her Paci, and that is saying something.

But she'll put it aside, back in her crib to wait for bedtime, if it means she can play Tackle a little bit longer.

I know the game will change. She will develop and grow.

She will not always be a tiny body collapsing into mine in a fury of pleasure.

But, oh, may she always love to be wild and free.

May she always trust her joy to my arms, and his.

May she launch herself a thousand, billion times, knowing she has a safe place to come to rest at the end of the arc.

May I always be there to catch her, and hold her, just a little bit longer.

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