Last night, my daughter didn't fall asleep until nearly midnight, wound up after a rainy and inactive day. Her late bedtime was not, however, what struck me most about the evening.
I sat in a chair across from her bed, listening to her dissect her day and muse about the following one. Sometimes, conversation frustrates her. She wants to be able to describe things in detail, and she only has a four year old's vocabulary. During one of those frustrating moments she sighed, giggled, then flipped the bedcovers back, her little feet and legs peeking out from under her pink nightgown.
I once read an article (or blog entry? Who can remember?) that mentioned how you could look at your children all day, and then suddenly would come a moment when you really saw them. And sitting among her colorful blankets, her face glowing with happiness simply because she was talking with me (to me of all people. In the four year old sphere, I am clearly a scintillating conversationalist): I saw her.
She was perfect. All unruly curls and moist little lips, pinch worthy cheeks and melted chocolate brown eyes - she couldn't have been more splendid than if all the masters of all the paintings of all time had collaborated to create her, this rosy cheeked creature of pure light and love.
And I thought: how did I arrive here? How did I come to be sitting in front of this darling little soul? How did that baby we brought home turn into the girl in that bed?
Such a sweet post. I'm wondering the same thing as I type this and my 3 year old is sitting her screaming at the top of his lungs because he can not sleep in the bed with me. How did that sweet little baby get to be like this?!
You so deserve that joy, my dear friend!!! This post nearly brought me to tears.