Each night in your prayers, you thank God for yourself and you mean it. You are absolutely tickled with who you are.
You see yourself as a fashionista. To school yesterday you wore a brown, teal and cream plaid dress with a white and red patterned t-shirt overtop, hot pink flowered tights and white tennis shoes. You found yourself unable to walk for the prancing.
I fixed your hair extra special that day to offset your extra special outfit and so your teacher would know you were not being neglected at home.
At dinner tonight you balked at the pizza I’d ordered and asked me to not make you finish your slice of pizza if you ate your entire huge portion of broccoli. You said you’d really rather eat my lentil soup.
Ever since I told you that getting down from the table during dinner meant that you would fall in hot lava, you always ask politely for a lava pass before getting up for extra napkins, forks or condiments.
Your favorite things to draw are robots. They are all nearly identical. They are happy and seem like nice robots, not the kind to develop artificial intelligence, turn on their human masters and lay waste to our planet. I like that.
Tonight at dinner I tried to pray in a more casual way like I was talking to Heavenly Father right there in the room. I rambled on about our day the way I would talk to any friend. I told him that we missed him and wished we could see him for dinner tonight. I wanted you to get a sense that he was really listening, that he was real. When I said amen, you wiped away a tear and said, “I think I’m just crying from happiness. That was a really good prayer!”
Yesterday you told me that you’d rather receive gifts from Santa than from regular people because they’re fresher. While a gift from your mom has probably been sitting around the store for who knows how long, a gift from Santa is just freshly made by the elves. You said, “You can just tell the difference in the freshness, you know?”
When I got home from my PTA meeting tonight, I came upstairs to turn off your reading light. I thought you were asleep so I leaned in and kissed you softly on your forehead. You smelled like baby shampoo. As I turned to walk away you whispered, “Sleep with me a minute please.”
I did. I ran my fingers through your damp hair until you drifted to sleep, the cadence of your breath resetting the rhythm of my body to a place of perfect contentment. Oh baby girl. You can’t possibly love yourself as much as I love you.
This is such a sweet post. I love how nobody can ever know your baby girl the way you know her but you sure helped me see a glimmer of the wonderfulness that is your little girl.
Pulling. on my. heartstrings!
Oh, lovely. The prayer was my favorite part.
I used to take the time every single night to do bath and massage with our Biscuit. He smelled like lavender every single night. Then his sister was born and I got lazy and tired and he got bigger and it seemed unnecessary. But I still use the lavender baby wash on his baby fine hair so I can sniff his head with glee when I want to. I think that aromatherapy is a replacement for baby heads.
Lava story! Funny. I wish I had thought of that when I had little kids. I enjoy reading your blog. And I’m jealous that you live in Seattle. I’d go there in a minute if I could get out of hot Arizona.
That Girl in Brazil says
What a fabulous tribute – thanks for introducing us!
Oh that is just TOO CUTE! What a sweet mom you are and what a lucky girl she is.
Steph @ Diapers and Divinity says
I want to give her a hug. Don’t worry, I wont, but I want to. 🙂
So sweet. I surely want FRESH gifts as well. They will understand when they become moms just how much it is possible to love a little person.
Melissa @ Anxious for Nothing says
So precious. What a dear girl.
Mom of boys says
You have such a beautiful way writing out mommy thoughts!
Wah! (Wiping tear away…)
Pam in Utah says
Heartstrings. here. too. 🙂
That brought tears to my eyes. What a sweet girl and beautifully expressed thoughts. My baby girl just turned 26 and is expecting her 2nd baby of her own soon, and I still love her like crazy, but it’s different now, of course. I remember those feelings of just being so incredibly enraptured with the wonderfulness of being a mother of a little girl. Enjoy every moment with her!
Amy from Occupation: Mommy says
You made me tear up. This is the post you should come back to when she’s making you want to pull out all your hair. What a precious little girl.
You made me cry! At work! Time passes too quickly and our babies grow up to fast. When my oldest comes into my bedroom at 3 in the morning saying “mommy I just need you” I welcome her into our bed with open arms (even though the hubby is groaning). I hope she still needs me 20 years from now as much as I will still need her.
this could not be more lovely and reminds me to remember and write the things about my children right now! the part about the prayer made my eyes water…it’s true we do miss Him!
your last two sentences made me cry. she is adorable. isn’t it amazing to watch our kids turn into real people? they are such treasures. thanks for sharing this–it reminded me to look for the treasures in my own kids this evening.
This made me smile so much when I read it earlier that I had to come back and read it again. Sweet, sweet girl.
Just darling. Just exactly how sweet and sassy I want my girl to be. :0)
“Unable to walk for the prancing” is killing me! What a great description. And what a beautiful tribute to motherhood and kids.
the prancing line got me too … so descriptive i could only imagine feeling that way when i was a little girl. lovely post!
Okay, not to just repeat what everybody else has already said, but this really is seriously sweet!
Auntie Daber says
Oh goodness. This reminds me of those Hallmark commercials- the ones that just make you smile and laugh and cry all at the same time, with little warm fuzzies all over, that make you want to run and hug the first person you see and tell them how much you love them. In short, it made my day! Make sure you save this one for her someday, its amazing!
Heather Lafter says
God sees us the same way. I wonder why we are so hard on ourselves!!
That choked me up. I love you, and her. 🙂
The Daring One says
I totally bawled when I was writing it too.
Rocks In My Dryer says
Oh how I love six. LOVE it. This is one of my favorite little poems, by A.A. Milne:
When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was nearly new.
When I was Three
I was hardly me.
When I was Four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five, I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I’m as clever as clever,
So I think I’ll be six now for ever and ever.
The Daring One says
I thought of that poem when I wrote this. My mom had us all memorize it before we were allowed to stop being five.