Time flies when you’re having fun. There is a picture of me with Polina when she was 5 months old that I use as wallpaper on my laptop computer. I am kissing her from behind, and she has a focused look on something, apparently uninterested in my affection. She, of course, is smaller in that picture than she is now, at a newly minted 15 months (i.e., her first week being 15 months.) Her hair is shorter in the picture, her face more scrunched up. I have 15 months of memories so far with her and I don’t want to lose any of them, so I decided to write them down, lest I do. I don’t want to forget:

1. How carefully you look at things, and turn things over to examine the back, like the sprout fruit puree container. You like to look at the back, where the label is, before you decide to drink it. It looks like you’re reading the label. You do the same thing with your toys, and pens, and anything else you’re trying to figure out.

2. How you fall asleep with my booby in your mouth. You don’t fall asleep any other way. I have to gently extricate it. Your naptime is my time for myself. I cherish it. It has gotten a lot easier to get up out of bed from being next to you. You used to wake up when I made a move. Thank you, dear, for giving me some time during the day to type, eat, read, relax. THANK YOU!

3. How giving you are. You like giving things to people. You gave something for the first time to your father the Friday before your first birthday. You like hearing “thank you” and “spasibo.” You take things back and give it to me again just so you can hear “thank you” and “spasibo.” Unfortunately, it doesn’t translate to other kids. I’ve seen you give things to kids and they just took it without saying anything, or just walked away without taking what you offered. I’ve seen you walk to other children, pointing to what you want, and they hold it tighter. Polina, I love you so much and want to protect you from harm. This is a nasty side of life. People want their things. Not everyone wants to share. I hope my love makes up for some of these failings.

4. I don’t want to forget how you sat on my head and started bouncing on it last week when I was still waking up in the morning.

5. How you started saying the vowel “o” for the first time two days ago. This is your second vowel after “ahhh.”

6. The way you look after you wake up from a nap- hair disheveled, eyes wide, and expression of waiting for something.

7. The way you nudge your head next to me to indicate you want to breastfeed.

8. How gently you play with Fisher Price L’il People. You like the people and the playground. (I choose good toys, don’t I?)

9. How you got on a Rody horse for the first time by yourself today, a mere 5-6 attempts after I helped you. Now getting off, that’s the hardest part.

10. The look of bliss on your face when I bounce you on my knee.

11. How intently you look at things. You are an observer. Good for you. Observe first, speak second.

12. How good, and naïve you seem when you approach other kids. One girl shared with you in the library and you played well. She was the kindest child we met so far.

13. How emotionally and personally you take things. When you don’t get what you want, you cry like there’s no tomorrow. It’s a visceral reaction: your eyes narrow, cheeks point upward, and your mouth wails in pain. Sometimes you hit your head intentionally by thrusting yourself backward against a kitchen cabinet. Sometimes you fall to the floor and howl. I pick you up and comfort you. Things will get better. You won’t cry about these things as you get older.

14. The way you help out in the morning by pushing down on the futon after your father and I lift it back on the frame. You have a big grin on your face when you help us.

15. When you smile, my world lights up. When you cry, it brings out the worst feelings in me.

16. The way you say Mmm mmm mm mmm to tell me what you want. I know what you want because I’m around you all day. I think it may discourage you from talking because I can understand you most of the time. That will change, as your world will become more complex, simply because you’ll understand more things and need to communicate more.

I’m sure this list will grow. Some of these memories will be replaced by other memories, because there will be more of them. This is my love letter to you now.