Tori's smile has truly magical properties. It doesn't matter how crabby I am, or how much I'm hating my life at the moment - one glimpse of that silly little gummy smile that takes up half her face and my spirits lift.
I remember the first time I saw her smile (I should. It wasn't that long ago). She was a little less than a month old. I'm pretty sure it was morning, but I'd been up so long I couldn't really tell you for sure. Anyway, I was heading for the couch, bottle in hand, and crying (yet again) over my inability to breastfeed her when she flashed a full-fledged grin, face crinkling and gums showing.
It definitely wasn't gas.
I couldn't help but smile back, knowing that whatever I thought I was doing wrong, she was feeling pretty okay about her life.
These days, she's smiling all the time (except when I pull out a camera to attempt to capture it). But it hasn't gotten old yet. Nope, every time I see it, I can't help but grin in return.
Even at 4 in the morning when I'd rather be in bed.
Or at 3 in the afternoon in the aftermath of one of her nuclear meltdowns.
It even works when it's accompanied by projectile spit-up or an explosive diaper.
It's not just me, either. Yesterday, my husband came home in a foul, foul mood. I was sure I was going to have to spend the entire evening walking on egg shells, trying not to aggravate him further.
But as soon as he walked up to Tori to say hello, she flashed her most adorable grin. Within seconds, he melted into a puddle of goo at her feet. Next thing I knew, he was sitting on the couch reading her a book, his bad day already ancient history.
Those smiles are magic, I tell you. If I could put them in a bottle and sell them, I'd make billions of dollars. Anyone want to work with me on that?