I see more and more of myself in you.
You share my obsession with order, preferring cabinet doors shut, toys back in their particular place, hands wiped clean of crumbs in between bites. Like me, you love to read, content to curl up in my lap at several points throughout the day as we work our way through book after book. You like learning your letters and the way that words sound, "gooey" being a current particular favorite.
You seem to be an introvert too, just like your momma. You get nervous around new people and large groups, burying your face into my shoulder. It takes you time to get comfortable and warm up to a new experience. You recently spent your first two music classes in my arms, refusing to participate, even though you're now dancing around the room unabashedly.
These resemblances between us surprise me because for so long, I felt like I couldn't understand you. And everyone said you looked like your Daddy. I felt a little sad then, as much as I love Daddy, because I worried that there was no part of me in you.
I don't worry that anymore. In fact, I worry sometimes that there's too much of me in you, that my compulsions and guardedness will be your's too.
But you have your Daddy's sense of humor, I think, and his fascination with the way things work. The truth is we don't know yet who exactly you will be, how the personality we see now will change and develop.
Today though and for as long as it lasts, I am enjoying the companionship we find in our mutual passions: your little broom beside me sweeping up crumbs after meals, the shared pleasure of a delightful word and a good book, the freedom to dance together in places where we feel safe and known.