The Little Things
Rick took the four olders to school today. My job was to get the littlest muppet out the door and to daycare. Early this morning, I made a list of things I must accomplish today, this being one of the three days of the week I have no kids with me. That list is sitting on my dining room table growing fangs, hair and teeth.
Pressure. Pressure to get things done, to do things well, to go out into the world with confidence.
My response: "Ah, screw it. I think I'll read to Tallulah instead."
Well, that sounds more noble than what actually happened. What happened was my 3 year old TV addict was begging to watch "sumpin" before going to daycare, and I was standing firm: no TV before daycare. After 15 requests for TV, she switched to asking for a book. I tried to say no, I really did, because I was feeling rushed. But I figured, damn, I really should encourage the whole reading thing. So a little reluctantly, I sat down on the couch to read.
One book later, repeated five times, and I found myself stuck to my couch, cuddling with Tallulah and Bob Dylan, covered in a cozy blanket, and playing silly games. Oh, to clarify, Bob Dylan is her stuffed monkey. Anyway, her most favorite thing these days is for one of us to be Bob Dylan's voice and to have goofy conversations with her. Today, Bob talked about her recent pink eye, where she does (and maybe should) go poop, polka-dotted seals, his favorite food (bananas, of course), and how much he loves her. He lamented the fact that he cannot use medicine for pink eye, like she did recently, because, as she pointed out, he cannot blink his eyes for the eye drops.
They hugged each other many times. They kissed a lot. She was exceedingly happy.
I was half an hour late dropping her off at daycare. The to do list is now growling and throwing china.
It was worth it.
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