Long term memory

Long term memory. It doesn't kick in until around four, my friend Dave said while he was visiting. I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

There are so many things that I wish Little Bird would remember. I wish that he would remember the They Might Be Giants concert. All the details, down to "no NOOOOOOO!" as he sang along with the band. I know that it made an impact on him because he frequently requests "Giants" when we get in the car, but I know that he won't remember that afternoon.

I wish that he would remember eating popsicles on the porch while the dogs chase him around, waiting for a drip or two. He only scolds the big lab though, turning to him and saying, "No, no, Gibby, no no!" Poor Gibson. Even the toddler scolds him.

The five minutes of deep full on belly laughter that occurs between bath time and book time, while his daddy tickles him on our bed - I can video it, but I wish that he would be able to store it in his memory.

Of course, these first few years that he won't remember, I guess they are giving me a little grace too. He won't remember that I lost my temper that day and broke his crib. He won't remember when his daddy misses dinner because he's working. He won't remember how badly it hurt for all of those teeth to come in, and how slowly it happened.

He also won't remember being my only baby. He won't remember having 100% of my attention most of the time. But I will. Fondly. I'm looking forward to being the mama of two boys, but I can't help but wonder if Bird got the best of times. The just he and I times. If so, that long term memory, rather the lack thereof, means that it will be my little secret at least.