I almost did it. I almost said the dreaded words, the ones you’re not supposed to say to a mom of young children. Ever.

“You’ll miss these days.”

I bit my tongue hard, refusing to let the thought in my head come out of my mouth. I’ve read enough blogs and Facebook vents to know no one wants to hear that.

I was talking to a mom of two little girls, deep in the thick of the toddler-preschool years. Those years where your child is independent but not. Where they are exhausting and maddening and require your attention all day, and sometimes all night. Where your life revolves around being the filler of sippy cups, wiper of bottoms, and chef of uneaten meals. Where your exercise is chasing your toddler all over creation to prevent catastrophe. When you spend your days repeatedly saving the life of that tiny person who brazenly runs into every dangerous situation imaginable, scaling furniture like a budding Evil Knievel. It’s exhausting, and while you’re standing in the middle of temper tantrums and accident soaked laundry, it feels overwhelming and never ending.

But it does end. And one day you’re in a new pattern of exhausting, maddening parenting. Then you hear someone lament about their young children and how hard it is, and you remember those days. Only this time, instead of remembering the misery, you remember their sweet little voices. You remember the mispronounced words and the language that only mommy could understand. You remember the pride in a piece of art scribble-scrabbled just for you, or the random pebble on the ground given lovingly as a gift. You remember the softness of their round baby cheeks and how it felt to kiss and stroke them. You remember the touch of their fine hair rubbing against your cheek as you held them in your arms, little bodies the perfect size for scooping up and squeezing in a hug. And the memories are so strong you can almost feel the warmth of their bodies and the smell of their hair. Almost, but not quite. Not enough. And you wish you could go back, just for a minute, and relive those beautiful, fleeting moments with your babies.

So mommies of young children, I ask you this favor; please don’t get mad at us if we slip up and tell you that you’ll miss these days. No, you won’t miss being covered in chocolate milk, but you will miss the clumsy little child who spilled it.  And you won’t miss wrestling that child to the ground to put on shoes, but you will miss the little body with little feet and toes that were still kissable. No, you won’t miss being screamed at because you cut their sandwich in half when they wanted it whole, but you will miss the child who looked at you like a superhero and believed you could do anything, to include magically putting a sandwich back together.

We miss “those days” because we don’t dwell on the moments of frustrating mundanity, they were simply a necessity. Instead, we remember our children, tiny, then little, and growing up far too fast. Those are the days we miss, more than you can imagine.