You snuggle in closely as the tractor roars and the trailer lurches, and I am thankful again for a babe content to be slung.
You point to the hillside. "Cow! Mama, Cow!" Goldenrod grows wild along the path and we watch the fog retreat into the valley.
"On your bottom" I tell Dylan at least a dozen times, her little body bobbing excitedly. It is her first field trip. Most children sit quietly with mothers and dads, but her joy is fierce and no hay bale will anchor her small soul. She swaps cheerful stories for smiles all around.
Magical days must be tasted in gulps.
Or savored sweet and slow. Most moments find you twice as busy as she, but not this fleeting one.
You'll be two in a blink, but this warm October you are small enough yet to wear by my heart.
It is full indeed.
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