Remember the other day ... Mere hours ago, really, when I was going on and on about my child being too big, too old, too unchildlike? In turn making me fret, making me proud?
I am sitting here, in our fave coffee shop alone ... Blogging about getting shot down by said five-year-old this morning when I told her where we were headed.
"No thanks, Mama. "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" is on and I have been thinking about those turtles for dayyyyyyyyys."
I know. She said that.
I'm actually happy. She's nestled in the recliner surrounded by her pink NaNa from infancy, a Sleeping Beauty pillow, Scooby Doo fleece blanket, in her faded purple nightgown bearing horses. Clutching her purple stuffed unicorn and asking for milk with her atrocious morning breath.
My baby. Right where she is supposed to be.
"Hey can you please bring me a star cookie and pink lemmelade when you come back?"
Sure babe. Anything for you.
Stay little, damnit.
Back to my own Turtle (mocha), Kim Kardashian, and Mumford & Sons station on Pandora.
Life is rad.