I don't want to forget how Ellerie sits through entire meals with her toes gripping the bottom of her highchair tray. Or how Tate currently ends all of his prayers with "the end." Or the way Calvin is trying so hard to pronounce his Rs correctly that he sounds like an old "Ruffles have ridges" commercial without the rolling. I don't want to forget how they all look when they are sleeping or how sweet it feels to have their little arms circle up around my neck or the way they laugh when we rub noses. And even as I write all that, I know so many memories have already faded or slipped from my mind altogether. Which boy was it that used to laugh so hard when we read "Hop on Pop?" Will I remember Ellerie's Lucille Ball-like assembly line antics with the peanut butter sandwich if I don't write it down? Will I REALLY remember it even if I do? Will I still taste the soggy sandwich that I ate after Tate "helped" pour the water not quite in the glass? Will Calvin's made up nonsensical knock-knock jokes pop in my head at some odd moment in the future? Will I remember the flutter of the first time they each said "mama" and, even more, "I love you!"? So often I find myself not savoring these things, not appreciating the moment we are in. I know I won't be able to hold all of this forever. I hope what we manage to keep is good and sweet and funny and full.