In less than a month, Kaitlyn will be three. And yet sometimes, I catch an expression on her face and see the woman she will become. Look at this face:
I want to keep her right where she is right now, making up silly stories and jokes, carrying around five blankies at once, tucking her dolls into a makeshift cradle and singing a lullaby to them in her highest-pitched voice. I don’t ever want her to know about the horrible things that happen in the world. I want her life to be rainbows and cotton candy and ponies. I want her face to look like this, all the time:
That’s not so much to ask for a parent, right?