The next day, I was telling the story to mom and dad. When I got to the part of what she said, I asked her "what did you say?". And with that kind of voice you get when you are trying to be really strong, but you cannot hold back the tears, and your words come out only in parts because your throat is constricting from the crying, she said her little part "I won't be your little girl any more". Yikes. I was done. I was crying, mom and dad were crying, Claira was crying. I haven't made her tell the story again. Such a precious little thinker. I wish for a teleprompter at times like that.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Claira was making ice cream cones out of play dough the other day. She was so excited, bringing them to me each time for a pretend lick. I said to her that maybe she could work at the ice cream store when she gets bigger, and scoop ice cream for real. She stood in the middle of the kitchen for a moment or two while I buzzed around her. Then she said in the quietest voice, almost to herself "but then you won't have a little girl any more". I picked her up and smothered her with kisses while trying to hold back the tears. She bounced down and kept making ice cream cones.
I forgot how much I love crawling babies. I forgot how dirty their knees get. I forgot how the tops of their socks get dirty. I forgot how they kind of go backwards when they are trying to crawl quickly. I forgot the look on their face when they peer around the corner. I forgot the screamy giggle when being chased. I forgot the little bit of trepidation in their eyes when setting out on a long journey across the grass. I forgot. How could I?