It has become our daily ritual:  You wait upstairs for me and when you see me coming you turn and run giggling down the hall to your room.  I watch as your bouncing curls disappear around the corner, all the while making threats that I am going to find you, I am going to get you, I am going to chew on your cheeks and nibble on your ears.  You squeal and hide and I can hear you laughing from behind your hiding spot- the curtains.  It’s the same every day.  I sneak into your room and pretend to look for you.
“Where could Baby Girl have gone?”
Your joyful squeals get louder as I get closer to the window.  You begin peaking out at me and hiding yourself when we make eye contact.  I stop, right in front of you and wonder aloud where my baby could be.
You can’t take it anymore.  You shriek, “I here!” and laugh as I join you in the curtains, tickling you, kissing you, nibbling on your fingers and cheeks.  We let the morning light rush over us as we play in these curtains, soft like a feather capturing us in our own world of play.
These are the things I will always remember.

Valorie Wibbens;
For The Record


Heather Joyce:
The Sophia