DVR

Sometimes I wish I had a DVR for my memories. A Life DVR.

Just the other night Chris and I were talking about the songs that Greyson sings, whether I've gotten it on video. He's too interested in the camera whenever it comes out. Maybe I could record his songs on my phone... because we think we will remember these moments forever, the sound of their voice, the way they pronounce bumble bee. But all too soon we forget, replacing the baby in our memories with the new big-kid version.

I want to remember Sunday morning, and revisit it often. Mike bringing Greyson into our bed at 8am to snuggle for a minute. Me pretending to still be asleep. Greyson finding my hand and saying "Mommy hand. Mommy finger. Mommy fingernail. I have fingernail, too!" Rolling over to see him in his dinosaur jammies, with scraggly, too-long blond hair and tiny perfect little teeth. Smiling at me, with big blue eyes.

Then he grabs his dad's nipple and Mike proceeds to increase G's vocabulary by complaining about the titty twister. "Twitty twister! Tweety, twitty, twister."

Maybe I wouldn't record that part...