Cooper and I had a conversation with short phrases (most of which are lost in translation but enough leftovers to pick up on) during the drive home from work. It's our routine now. We use the 30 minute drive to bargain, edit, and finalize our plans for when we get home.

Popcorn was the snack we settled on, "Baby Genius" the show he would be allowed to watch while I cooked his dinner, and "play with coins" (his faux cash register) the toy he wanted to play with.

After arriving home I got him out of the car and accidentally bumped his head. He rubbed his head and said "Ma drive da's car...Coop bump head!" He walked alongside me up the stairs, counting each one out loud as I held his hand. It was pitch black outside with the exception of his light-up shoes casting strobe lights up the stairs.

During dinner, he fed himself mac and cheese (the height of toddlerhood culinary endeavors) with a fork. I almost burst into tears. It was an imperfect, yet very determined bite.

Parenthood feels so very...right at the moment. I love our little family, and everything feels as it was meant to be. We are far from perfect. There are so many aspects of parenthood that make me feel inadequate. That is why I take these moments-the garishly lit up stairs from Cooper's cheap shoes, the bathroom acoustics of his rendition of "Farmer in the Dell," his little hand clutching the fork and the way he threw the fork up in victory-and store them away as the things that matter most.