I’m for Childhood

I’m for skinned knees,

Grass stains,

Sweaty foreheads,

And Band-Aids.

I’m for ice cream drips,

And soggy cones,

For Popsicle stains,

And Icees.

I’m for campfires,

Sooty hotdogs,

Lightning bugs,

And stars.

I’m for blanket forts,

Bedtime stories,

And flashlights.

I’m for sleeping close.

I’m for swings under trees,

Daisy chains,

And dandelion fluff.

I’m for touching the sky.

I’m for wide fields,

Deep woods,

And All Things Scary.

I’m for adventure.

I’m for Good Guys,

For super-hero capes,

Stick-swords,

And muscles.

I’m for King of the Mountain,

Tag,

And Hide-n-Seek.

I’m for playing.

I’m for road trips,

And “You’re-on-my-side,”

And “He’s-looking-at-me,”

And “If I have to pull over…”

I’m for bicycles,

Going too fast,

And Down-Hill.

I’m for brakes.

I’m for climbing trees,

Apple picking,

And leaf piles.

I’m for pumpkins.

I’m for Grandma’s house,

Sleepovers,

And extra dessert.

I’m for being spoiled.

I’m for stuffed animals,

the Tooth Fairy,

Christmas stockings,

And wishes.

I’m for first snowfalls,

Soggy mittens,

And cocoa.

I’m for marshmallows.

I’m for freckles,

Sticky kisses,

And dimpled hands.

I’m for “I love you.”

I’m for rainbows,

Twirling umbrellas,

And puddles.

I’m for mud pies.

I’m for stomping.

I’m for skipping,

And running,

And flying.

I’m for imagination,

For new crayons,

Fresh paper,

And possibilities.

I’m for discovery,

For turning over rocks,

Taking a leap,

Being brave.

I’m for newborn noises,

Kid conversations,

And questions.

I’m for naps.

I’m for growing.

I’m for new clothes,

Birthdays,

And missing teeth.

I’m for time—

For eternal days,

And days that go too quickly.

I’m for childhood.

100 Days of Motherhood, 40