Feathered Aspen

You make life sweet


Dear Lily,

Yesterday, we woke up slowly.  Lu alternately stirred and slumbered beside me while you kicked the covers off and stretched your arms up and over your head.  Often, you wake with tears or frustration, but yesterday, you looked at me and smiled.  I turned to snuggle you, and with my arms around you, I asked, “what do you want to do today?  Do you want to go to the Children’s Museum?”

You looked at me and said, “no.  I want to spend time with you.  Stay home.  Paint.”

After a week of visitors that moonlight as celebrities, holding your awe and attention, it was the sweetest thing you could possibly say.  So we did.  We stayed home.  We painted.  We spent time together.  I read you no less than eight books, and you sat on my lap, leaning into me.

Today, it was much the same.  We were a team.  Simpatico.

So even though Spring Break wasn’t really a break in the sense that we got to relax or go on vacation, it was a break in the sense that our routine was broken, and now as we go back to that routine, I can appreciate its rhythms and lulls.  Sharing you is good.  I got to go on a date, clean the house, throw a party, and run with Joshua.  I got to cuddle Lu and know that you felt adored and special too.  I see how people love you and how you shine with that love.  I see how you make people happy.  But it’s nice to have you all to myself, too.  It’s nice to be the one you turn to when you can’t or don’t want to do it “all by yourself.”  It’s nice to be the one with whom you share your observations.  Seriously, “it’s a little bit chilly today,” or silly, “Thibodeaux is a round head, mommy,” or frankly, “otherwise, we could go to the library.”

Actually (“actually” you say) it’s better than nice.  It’s right up there with watching you act like a monkey in front of Lu and having her belly laugh with appreciation.  It’s up there with your daddy struggling to put his sandals on because his arms are full and you leaning down to hold the strap for him, without anyone saying a word.  It’s up there.

Dear Lily,

You’re three.  You’re old and you’re young.  You’re complicated and you’re simple.  You’re more than I ever expected.

Dear Lily,

You make life sweet.



Author: Ellie

Wife, Mom, Adventurer...

3 thoughts on “You make life sweet

  1. Dear Ellie, You make my life sweet with retelling the every day doings of yourself and your delightful family. God bless. Gramma Vivienne

    Sent from Windows Mail

  2. Lovely, El. Keep ’em coming.

  3. she uses the word ‘otherwise?’ seriously? 😀

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