Yesterday afternoon I asked my little girl if she wanted to come lay down with me and read a book. We were both tired and a little bit cranky from a busy morning.
It was cool, lying there with the ceiling fan on, so we snuggled up under my fluffy down comforter. I set the book off to the side for a moment and we just talked. My daughter placed her little hand in mine and told me all about her idea for building a paper boat. In a conspiratorial whisper, she admitted that it would not float; it wasn’t that kind of boat. It was more of a looking-at boat than a sailing boat.
I told her that I knew how to make an actual floating paper boat. She was duly impressed; we made plans to create a fleet and launch them in the bathtub.
After exhausting the subject of boats, silence hung on the air for a moment. I marveled at the familiar sound of her breathing. How many breaths has it been since the day we met? How many heartbeats?
She moved her hand from mine and placed it on my cheek.
Looking at me with big blue-green eyes, she said, “Mom, your face is really hairy. Really hairy. Like an animal.”
Motherhood, it’s a beautiful thing.
