Monday, January 08, 2007

Gertrude is a child who adores being cuddled. Her idea of a perfect weekend would be to spend 48 hours in continual, uninterrupted contact with Mom and/or Dad. Last night she broke into tears because it was starting to get dark outside and she hadn't gotten in nearly enough cuddling.

This morning she dragged herself out of bed and came into the kitchen where I was digging through lunchmeat packages (and discovering that the ham I'd had on my sandwich Saturday was at least two weeks older than it had a right to be). She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the couch, I assumed in need of early morning cuddles before facing the week ahead.

"I need to talk to you about something," she said seriously, as I nuzzled her on my lap.

"Okay," I said.

"Do you like Daddy?" she asked.

Oh crap, so she heard us "loudly debating" the timeframe for projected home improvements yesterday...?

"Of course I like Daddy!" I said.

She got a sappy smile on her face. "Did you marry him because you like him?"

"That's right," I said. "Daddy and I go together like peas and carrots."

This was an ironic thing to say to Gert, who openly despises both peas and carrots.

"I'm glad you married him... because he's my best Daddy I ever had in the whole world."

Then Matilda came prancing into the living room, pushed her hair back and proclaimed, "They stayed in!"

We all congratulated her.

I should explain. Matilda finally worked up the courage and resolve to get her ears pierced yesterday, and went to bed with the fearful conviction that somehow her gleaming new cubic zirconian studs would work their way out of her lobes while she slept. No amount of reassuring her would convince her otherwise. When I tucked her in last night, she was fast asleep with her hands cupped protectively over her ears.

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