Chubby fists, not quite a toddler, yet not quite big girl. Still small enough to hold. She turns my face to hers and whispers in my ear, “I belong with you. You belong with me in my sweet heart.” She nuzzles her button nose into my cheek and says, “Now say it to me, mom.” And so, I do. “I belong with you. You belong with me. In my sweet heart.” Her sweet innocence is one of her greatest qualities. My round faced, raven haired, sweetheart. She is a riddle and an open book. You will know when she is angry, but still more when she is happy.
She is young and innocent and wants to sing this song most nights and asks for it continuously in the car. And she sings it in her own words, not the correct words, but her own words. Which makes it all the better. Because I know I will never regret whispering a sweet song to my Brooke and I won’t regret taking the time to let her whisper it to me. Her little girl arms hugging my neck and spreading happiness and love to anyone who will accept it.