I’ve gotten the girls hooked on the “Wicked” soundtrack. When we drive to school in the mornings, there are periodic requests for specific songs, and their favorites change frequently. Helen currently likes “For Good,” so we listened to that as we were driving through Jones Valley this morning to drop her off.
Then Alice wanted to hear “Dancing Through Life,” though she asked for it differently: “You know, Mommy! The one with the beautiful girl in the chair! And then he says ‘Let’s Dance’ and she says ‘What?'”
So Alice and I sat in the parking lot of her school for about 5 minutes, listening to the whole song. She crawled over the console into the front and just hugged on me for the entire time, showering me with kisses and smiling at me.
In the middle of the night, Alice came upstairs and silently stood next to me until I noticed her, and so I pulled her into bed to spoon with me for a little while. She’s such a snuggly little thing; she immediately just cuddled up and passed back out, never saying a single word. After about 30 minutes, when I realized I wouldn’t get a decent night of sleep that way, I asked her if she was ready to go back to bed. She nodded, and silently went back downstairs and crawled back into her own bed. I covered her back up again and kissed her on the head and left the room. So precious.
Funny how all of her transgressions (did I mention that I need to get more Mr. Clean Magic Erasers to eradicate the crayon marks on at least three walls? And that the overwhelming fragrance of the AirWick Scented Oil vessel that she dumped last week is finally dissipating? And that I’m missing the interior bag of my high-fiber cereal and have no idea what she did with it? And that I still can’t find my graphing calculator, two months into the school year? And Jerry finally found my missing wine bottle vacuum sealer under Alice’s bed last night?)…. Sorry, I got distracted. Funny how all of her transgressions can evaporate in just a few short minutes.
I love that she takes my hand in parking lots, that she randomly tells me that she loves me and that I’m the “best Mommy she’s ever had,” she likes my cooking, and that she’ll stop playing abruptly to race across the room and get a hug, only to return to her play without saying anything. For all her terrorism, I end the day knowing that she loves me and knows that she is loved, too. And it doesn’t get any better than that.