Monthly Archives: February 2016

Sleepy time

“Hi, daddy,” Elmo says to me in your high little voice.

Elmo says "Hi, Daddy."

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, daddy.”

After bath and books and milk and crackers and puffs and water and milk and tissue, you finally settle down on your pillow. Not your bed or mattress.

When you were climbing out of your crib, we took the sides down, and converted your crib into your bed.

The first night, we put pillows next to the bed for Mommy and Daddy to lay on, while you fell asleep. You slept in your bed the first night.

The next night, you laid on the pillows, and that’s where you’ve sleptIMG_9694 ever since.

 

Daddy likes to lay with you and watch you fall asleep.

One night Daddy played with Elmo, and spoke to you in Elmo’s high voice. You were delighted. With a little smile, you took Elmo and Elmo said to me,

“Hi, daddy.”

Sometimes at bedtime, Mommy prays with you.

Daddy offers a blessing over you, my hand on your head:

“The Lord bless you and keep you;
                  the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;
                  the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”

“Dank ooo,” you say, thanking me for the blessing.

“Dank ooo.”

Most nights, though, you fight sleep and try to do anything but lay down.

“It’s sleepy time,” we say, as you try to play. “Sleepy time.”

Once you lay down, you often fidget and squirm and roll around, struggling to stay awake. You pat the pillows next to you, inviting us to lay beside you.

“Nighty night,” we say. “Nighty night.”

When you do finally drift off to sleep, I gaze upon your resting, peaceful face, so pleased that you are our little girl.

Fathers and daughters

“…I’ve made it my business to observe fathers and daughters. And I’ve seen some incredible, beautiful things. Like the little girl who’s not very cute – her teeth are funny, and her hair doesn’t grow right, and she’s got on thick glasses – but her father holds her hand and walks with her like she’s a tiny angel that no one can touch. He gives her the best gift a woman can get in this world: protection. And the little girl learns to trust the man in her life. And all the things that the world expects from women – to be beautiful, to soothe the troubled spirit, heal the sick, care for the dying, send the greeting card, bake the cake – all of those things become the way we pay the father back for protecting us…”  ― Adriana Trigiani

“Duice”

“Duice.”

“Duice,” you said running out of the room.

“Duice!”

This had just appeared on the TV.
IMG_0591

“Duice.”

Daddy followed you into the kitchen, where you stood in front of the fridge.

“Duice.”

“What?”

“Duice.”

Juice.

And this is one of the reasons we don’t let you watch much tv.

I’m reminded of the Idiom, “little pitchers have big ears.”

Screen Shot 2016-03-31 at 5.53.39 PM

Little pitchers have big ears. And big eyes.

You see and hear much more than we realize.

A fleeting moment may leave a permanent impression. Or it may disappear like morning rain. We don’t know what will hold your attention or what you’ll remember.

We do know that you’re exceptionally smart, and you’re already very good at connecting ideas and different situations — like seeing people on TV drinking juice, and thinking you’d like some juice, yourself.

Two years ago

Two years ago today we held you in our arms for the first time.

IMG_1699

You were only five days old, when we first met you. (You should ask Daddy to tell you the story of the man who ate a bad clam.)

Daddy strapped you into your seat for the first time, and took this photo.

Daddy strapped you into your seat for the first time, and took this photo. Like a puppy, your eyes hadn’t opened yet. You don’t sleep as much now, two years later.

You’re still so tiny.

Nothing sounds better than “my daddy” when you see me or when you say “hug” and clamber into our arms.

You are as sweet as you can be when you come in to the house and yell as loud as you can in your little voice, “mommy.” Mooooommmmy.”

Over the years, we may forget to say what we’re thinking everyday. But I want to say now while I write and years from now, as you read this, thank you for being our little girl.

Thank you for being in our lives.

Thank you for being you.