Flipping pages

It was nap time, but I'd successfully riled her up with my cheek-to-cheek kisses.

("MMMMMMM-wah!" I say while kissing one side and then the other. "Uuuuhh-huuuh," she responds, her version of a laugh, then squeals through her toothless smile.)

I can't help it. She's irresistible. I place her on the bed and prepare to swaddle her, knowing she's tired and ready to sleep. But she looks up at me and smiles and coos and does the "Ah-gooooo!" sound.

Sometimes I'm able to keep a straight face and stick to the very serious business of sleep. I bundle her body in a soft blanket, then rock her to sleep. But other times, she reels me in with all of her adorableness and so I start this kissing game, the quickest way I've found to get her laughing.

Yesterday, in order to calm Aida down again after several rounds of kisses, in order to return to the very serious business of sleep, I plopped her on my lap in the rocker and opened "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" -- the small version with the hard cardboard pages -- and started reading.

"In the light of the moon a little egg lay on a leaf," I read aloud, my fingers already lifting the page for a turn.

Aida's been touching the pages of the books I read to her for a couple weeks. But yesterday, for the first time, her tiny fingers moved from feeling the page to grabbing its edge and flipping it over. She did it with every page in the book.

I couldn't believe it.

I tell Aida almost every day what a wonderful life she's going to have. I try to think of all the firsts she has yet to experience. Her first swim in the Gulf of Mexico. Her first bike ride on two wheels. Her first trip overseas. Her first crush.

I don't know exactly what Aida's life will look like, if she'll be an artist or writer or scientist or teacher or humanitarian or mother or what. If she'll like Thai food or sushi or dancing when no one's looking.

I know I will do all I can to ensure it involves lots of kisses and laughs and music and learning. And pages.

Lots of turned pages.