I woke to the noise of my child.
The youngest is always up first, and was so happy to see me he launched himself into my arms.
Within minutes, the other two came downstairs, waiting for the signal, which was likely noise of any kind.
We sat on the couch, all three taking turns talking while I brushed the knots from their hair.
They “helped” me make breakfast before we started the day. The oldest had a birthday party, and we left soon after.
The others said goodbye, with disappointed eyes and big hugs, and I promised to spend some special time with them later.
And then I drove my funny six year old to get gas. She was so excited at her best day ever- the exclamation earned when I said she could help me fill the car with gas.
She was pleased with herself, but needed assistance with a hose that was heavier than she is.
Proudly, she filled the car and handed it back.
She saw police officers at the coffee shop, and proceeded to say hello and ask how she could join them on the force.
As long as she is able to race cars and have a dog, she wants in.
I enjoyed the amusement and softness she brought to the faces of three middle-aged men carrying guns as she interrogated them with questions.
They left with a smile, and she beamed with star-struck appreciation.
She had just spoken with her hero’s.
Then came the main event- the birthday party.
At a trampoline place, no less. My family understands my medical misgivings, but she had a blast, even forcing me to jump from time to time.
Every adult was shiny and red by the half way point, while the kids looked like they’d been sitting in front of a tv relaxing.
Apparently, adults aren’t in shape for trampolining the way a six year old is.
She shared her cake, held my hand, and offered to help me with my jumping.
In short, she was the perfect, most considerate date.
She’s getting so funny and so smart, and loves spending ample time with me.
I hope she continues to want to hang out with mommy, talk to me nicely, and make me laugh.
My silly monkey, my sweet child
