Snapshots

There are little rituals in our house right now that I want to remember forever. Scenes that are played constantly, yet I know they will only last a short while. Scenes that can't be captured by photographs for fear I might ruin the moment.

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I want to remember that when my boys get out of the bathtub, they put on their towels (one duck, one frog) and pretend to disappear underneath them. If I don't yell out, "Where oh where are my babies?" or "Where's Griffin and Grayson? I can't find my babies!" they get mad at me. They do this each and every time, and the giggles that ensue when I "find" them are priceless.

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I want to remember that Grayson plays every trick in the book to try and not go to bed. He leans on his hands at the gate and just chatters away to anyone (or nobody) until he thinks it is necessary to actually crawl into bed. Meanwhile, Griffin falls asleep INSTANTLY and doesn't wake up despite his brother's loud chatter and shouts.

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I want to remember nose kisses that are always followed by giggles and smiles.

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I want to remember all the times Griffin asks me to "stay for awhile" after we pray before bed. All he wants is for me rub his forehead for about thirty seconds.

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I want to remember their bursting imaginations. Both boys can talk to their action figures and animals for hours creating scene after scene of fun.

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I want to remember the tickle fights. The times I "eat" their toes or ears.

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I want to remember all the times Grayson crawls into my arms and says, "Sing rock baby." This is his way of asking me to rock him back and forth and sing the song "Rockabye Baby on the Treetop." When we get to the part "Down will come cradle, baby and all" I must pretend to drop him to the floor. Nine times out of ten, the minute he hits the floor, he begs, "Again."

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I want to remember all the times I see Grayson put his arms out and say, "I sit with you?" I want to remember all the times I say yes.

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I want to remember all the times Griffin goes to our printer, takes out paper, and makes me a card. Just today I received a card on my pillow that was an outline of his hand with a heart in the middle. (Copied from the book The Kissing Hand). He wrote all by himself, "Love You Mommy." While I can keep the card for as long as I want as a visual reminder, I don't ever want to forget that proud and loving look on his face when I open each of his creations.

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Too many snapshots. Too many fleeting moments. They grow up so fast, and I want to remember it all.