Fields of Green: Click

Remember in the wedding episode of The Office when Jim and Pam decide they are going to take mental pictures of their day?

	Pam: Hey my aunt told me something neat. She said, everything with the wedding goes by so fast, we should try to take mental pictures of the high points.
	Jim: Oh wow, that's cool. [turns to Pam] Click! Oh, you blinked! Now that's in my brain forever.
	Pam: Oh.
	Jim: What a lousy picture.
	Pam: We should've hired a professional (ahem, Fields of Green Photography!) to take the mental pictures.

Well, anyway, I have to make myself do that- take mental pictures. I have a tendency to want to run to the camera for every little thing because I'm afraid I will forget it, but sometimes running for the camera makes you miss the moment or be less present because I'm fiddling with buttons. Sometimes you have to just be.

Like the other night, when Sweet Pea reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck as we cuddled in the "big bed" where she was falling asleep there for the second night in a row. She squeezed again and again and didn't want to let go. She gave me funny bunny kisses and butterfly kisses and giggled and smiled all on her own. I loved those little arms around my neck and that sweet face so close to mine.

Or late Monday night, when we got back to my parents' house after the beach. Bean's hair was down and long and super curly from the cool, humid air and it glowed in the rays of the motion light and waved gently in the dark breeze while she gripped the toad we found hopping in the driveway and peered into his face wanting to kiss him. She looked exactly like Disney's Rapunzel and my heart swelled at her littleness and bigness all at once.

Or yesterday afternoon, when Bean wanted to do a recital in her room and then play "Freeze," her favorite ballet class game. You just play music and the kids freeze when it stops. Both the girls twirled around the room and Sweet Pea picked it up right away, staring at Bean and then spinning and swaying to her own beat. She yelled, "Freeze!" every time the music stopped and tried to hold her little wiggly body still. I loved every piece of her.

Click.