X's and O's

Yesterday, I took Ria, my nearly-one-year-old daughter, to Burlington to look for coats for next year. I pulled out several sized 3T coats (because big coats mean at least two years of usage) and let her choose. I was glad she chose green and not Pepto-Bismol pink (which most of the girls' coats are) because it is a lot easier on my eyes. Though I would have supported the pink had she wanted it.

After choosing one for her sister, we went up to the front to pay. I let her carry her coat. When it was time to ring out, I told her to bring her coat so we could buy it. She toddled over with the world's largest grin on her face. I swooped her up and put the coat on the counter so the girl behind the desk could ring it up while I searched for my card.

Suddenly, Ria began covering me with kisses and hugs, her little body straining against my arm. She was jumping up and down and wound her little arms around my neck, squeezing with every ounce of energy in her. She was kissing and hugging so much that I couldn't swipe my card.

It was the absolute best feeling in the world. Totally made my day.

Warm and Safe

There is nothing simpler and more beautiful than both of my daughters sitting on my lap in a family cuddle.

It does make me wonder how moms with more children do it. It seems that it might be a bit uncomfortable.

Beauty in Transience

One of the messages in the Last Unicorn is that although there is beauty in immortality, there is a far more poignant beauty found in things that fade and die.

Yesterday, my daughter spouted the line "leave me alone!" It affected me more deeply than I would have thought. I always knew she would someday leave me behind, but this simple statement of toddler independence nearly crushed me. It is the beginning of the end. It means that I will savor the scent of her hair when she cuddles me more deeply than I even did before. I will treasure every soft touch, and every sweetly concerned "don't cry, mommy."

It pains me to know that I am not capturing every second of being with her, holding it like a fluttering butterfly. I get too caught up in cleaning, cooking, unwinding from my day. How I try to freeze every feeling into a secret place in my heart, where the finger-tip memory of the feel of my dog's wiry fur is still tucked away, to bring out only when I need it most.

With a startling prescience, I see myself holding a pillow to my chest, alone in my room, closing my eyes and breathing in the remembered tickle of her soft hair. I can't imagine anything more precious. Even my whimsical mind cannot conceive of anything more beautiful than these moments, now, spent with her. Eternity cannot possibly be beautiful in the way that this is beautiful, because eternity does not die.

Sneakiness

My daughter, whom I shall call Ely here, is developing her understanding of when she is in trouble. Today, as I was in the checkout line, unbeknownst to me, she grabbed a York Peppermint Patty and tried to taste it through the wrapper. I caught her in the act with an "Ely! What are you doing?" From the first syllable of her name, she hurriedly stuffed the candy back into the box and gave me her angel eyes.

"Angel eyes" is what I call it when looks at me with her wide, brilliant blue eyes and smiles sweetly. It is hard to be irritated with those eyes. I had to check the candy. Sure enough, she bit a perfect half-moon bite through the wrapper, and although the wrapper itself was not broken, I was certain no one would want to eat a York Peppermint Patty with indentations from Ely's teeth. I had to buy it, accompanied by firm verbal assurances to my daughter that her behavior was not acceptable.

The lady at the checkout stand disapproved of how I chastened my daughter. It embarrassed me, knowing I was having to discipline my child in public, but what choice do you have with a two-year-old? They don't understand discipline for something in the past. I am gaining more and more sympathy for mothers with small children, now that I am one.

After we left the store and returned to the car, I was strapping her into her car seat and lecturing her. "Lectures" for such a small girl consist of repeating "What you did was wrong. That candy did not belong to you. Candy, no. No touch!"

Upon hearing this lecture, my daughter lifted her arms and soulfully said "Kisses, mommy?" Of course, I gave her kisses and told her I love her, but I didn't let go that easily.

"What do you do when you see candy?"

"No touch!"

"Good! Good girl. You are very smart. Don't touch candy without asking mommy first, okay?"

"Yes! I love you, mommy!"

"I love you, too, honey." She is truly the light of my life, even in her mischief. It is difficult to keep the balance between love and teaching, but she helps me remember that I am not far different. I can see, now, why God sometimes does what He does in my life.

I'm not a big fan of York Peppermint Patties, though I can eat them. My husband categorically hates mint. Therefore, there is a York Peppermint Patty in my freezer. Perhaps I won't ever eat it. It reminds me that the world is a very different place to a two year old, where finding the beauty and intrigue in a pretty, shiny wrapper outweighs understanding of ownership. It reminds me that I don't know everything.

And there is no other Peppermint Patty in the world quite like that one, now.