My Happy Meal

A cry in the night and Steve gets up to comfort my 8 year old from nightmares. He snuggles in with her and is soon snoring softly, to her dismay. It's 4:3o a.m. and she keeps shaking dad to quiet down until finally he tells her to get in bed with mommy. She sneaks in quietly but I know she is there. I turn to hug her. Mistake if I want to sleep. Blessing if I don't mind missing sleep. She starts to tell me about her friends and who they are. She informs me she is the one who is willing to care for others even if they are being mean. She is the one that will let others know that even though this girl is mean then we should pretend we are that person and then not be so mad. (Her words not mine.) She chats about getting her ears pierced for her birthday and wanting to live in New York when she is old. (Old being twenty.) She would like to get up and go walking in 10 degree weather at now 5:oo this very morning. (Family summer tradition to walk.) She wants to be a photographer. She wishes for more friends. "Oh, my happy meal" I call her, "You will have too many friends soon enough." By 5:45 I urge her to sleep even against all her protest. Within seconds she is like an octopus with arms and legs encased all over me. Her soft pink pj's with little ruffles at the bottom feel soft against my skin and I breathe in her yummy smell of "littlie". Her soft breathing makes my mind wander to how can I blog this to capture the very moments for my always failing memory? I lay there thankful for moments in my life that make everything worth it. This was one of those moments. Go and Do.