Archives 2002 - Morning Visitor

I'm on vacation this week. It's spring break. For both girls! How lucky is that? Unfortunately, there will be no vacation to a far away exotic location. Darcy, due to a last minute change in start times for the school year, has to be be at the State Theater Competition. She will be off to Tampa for four days and nights to perform, watch tons of theater, and party it up as only Drama kids can do. Madison and I are having a Staycation in between college homework.

Due to my vacation, and due to the fact that I've discovered my old blog entries that need to be recorded for prosperity, or some such reason, I will be posting entries from the archives. Thanks for hanging in and reading! I appreciate the opportunity to let my creativity, such as it, flow.

In the Morning - September 7, 2002

I get to sleep late one morning a week. Today, on such a morning, my three year old woke me. She always stands at my bedside staring, sucking her "paci" and making that slurp, slurp sound that wakes me because obviously "my child needs me". She had vital information that had to be shared, and she could not wait until I woke up on my own.

• The goldfish died, and Daddy flushed him down the toilet.
• Her knee was hurting so Maddy got her a band-aid
• The light is shining outside so it is morning and therefore time to get up.

She then climbed into my bed with her doll and her paci and asked for "some loving". We hugged. We kissed. We cuddled. She asked me if I wanted to hear a song, and when I agreed that I did, she began to sing. She sang a song she wrote herself. Actually, she wrote it right there while she was singing. It was sort of what I call a "story song", along the lines of Kenny Rogers, The Gambler or Conway Twitty's, 38 Special. 

Her song was about bad witches, Ariel the mermaid, stepsisters and stepmothers, birthday cakes, and more. The song went on an on, and eventually developed into a full blown stage show complete with costumes and talking inanimate objects at the foot of my bed. I sat against the pillows playing the dutiful audience. When it was over, I was on my feet cheering, and getting dressed.

If only every morning could be this magical.