Besides reporting to me this morning, before I’d even thrown a leg out of bed, that she’d let her brother use the pink bowl for his cereal–the coveted pink bowl, of which we have one, my daughter went into ultra-help mode around nine a.m.
I didn’t get it.
And I didn’t ask.
I just watched as she twirled downstairs in a pink dress and returned upstairs with a rag so she could scrub the bathroom sink.
By which time her brother wanted to help by manning the squirter with the cleaner and…she let him. That she would graciously fold kitchen towels, scoop up library books, turn my soccer socks right side out–a job I can’t even stand– and pick up puzzles…bolstered my own energy. Because…because when I looked behind me, things were still in order. As in, ain’t nobody just dumped out the blocks I just spent ten minutes puttin’ away.
When she made a little crown tonight out of her new puzzlebits and fit it to her head, nothing seemed more appropriate.
She’d certainly been my princess all day long.