I count the hours in diapers, wipes, formula and tiny prepackaged jars of mashed food.
I count the weeks in early morning babble, and bedtime stories. In cuddles.
I count the months in doctors appointments and milestones; first teeth, rolling, talking, crawling, walking.
I count my heart beats when they stop because of tumbles, rolls and kabonka bonks.
I count my smiles in discovery, first aided and unaided steps; when small things to me seem so big and new to him.
I count my tears in sleepless nights, upset tummies, and runny noses.
But if you ask me the time, or what day it is, I won't be able to tell you. Because I count time in moments. They go by so fast, and if I stop to blink or give you the time I will miss them.