Almost as though she understood how monumental yesterday’s event was in the journey of a mother with daughters, and almost as though she knew the pace of change sometimes steals my breath away, Maddie climbed up next to me on the couch last night, curled up inside my arms, and promptly fell asleep. It’s not often anymore that I get to hold a sleeping child in my arms. Too quickly they move from vulnerable sleeping babies to blossoming young women.
Last night, I held my sleeping baby for a long time. I buried my face in her hair and held on tight until, eventually, her daddy carried her to bed.
She’s still my little girl and I will savour these moments for as long as I can.
Tonight, as if to further prove she’s not all grown up yet, she danced around the house – first in her “Angels in Training” shirt and then later, before her bath, buck naked. At one point, as she flashed her private parts to her daddy, she saw him flinch and asked “Daddy, are you overwhelmed with vaginas?” I covered my mouth and hid my face so she wouldn’t see me giggling. (Yes, as he looks forward to three daughters in puberty, I think he’s feeling a little overwhelmed with vaginas.)
Incidentally, she firmly believes her shirt says “Monkey in training.” I haven’t made any effort to correct her. Seems more appropriate somehow. (And in case you’re wondering what’s all over her shirt, it seems she was enjoying the play doh at day care today.)