Bedtime Rituals

Well, the child is a bit off her game today. She and I both went back to school, which took us considerably out of the comfort zone we'd developed over the last couple of weeks. No more Princess Dancing whenever we wanted....no more impromptu snuggles on the couch with new Christmas books....no more spur-of-the-moment tickle fights, or serious philosophical discussions, or cooking marathons.

She was exhausted tonight, but clung to the world of the living. After she'd had her bedtime story and had brushed her teeth and said good night, the fun began.

She came trotting out of her room, brazen as a hussy, and crawled under the computer desk where I was working. With her were her best friends, Monty the delapidated stuffed Welsh terrier (I have tried without success to find another like him, but I believe he has been discontinued by Douglas toys...so he'd better not fall apart completely or the world will possibly end), Ribbon the threadbare cat (bought for about $3.00 at Shoppers Drug Mart and definitely an end-of-the-line model), and her sippy cup filled with water (not such a collector's item).

"Ahem," I said.

Giggles from under the desk.

"What are you doing there?"

"We're here for the questions."

"Oh really?"

From the darkest recesses under the desk, a little arm pushed Monty upward. "Monty first."

"Does Monty have a question?"

"No, he wants you to ask him a question."

I have learned it's sometimes easier just to do things when they are requested. "Okay. Monty, do you like to play lots of games?"

A squeaky falsetto from under the desk replied, "Oh, yes!"

Monty was shoved into my arms, and then Ribbon popped out.

"Hi Ribbon," I said. "Do you like dogs?"

"Oh, yes, I really really do!"

"Great. Oh, hi, cuppy. Cuppy, do you prefer water or milk?"

"I like apple juice the best!"

"Oh good. Okay everyone, let's go back to bed now."

"No! Wait! I have to have the questions too!"

How she avoided bashing her head on the desk I don't know, but somehow she wormed her way into my lap.

"Well well," I said. "Do you love all the kids?"

"I do!" she squeaked at top volume, and flung her arms around me. I don't know what that suggested about my adult status.

"Right. Let's go." I marched her back to her room. "Into the bed!"

"No! Chair, chair!"

So we sat for the second time that night in the rocking chair in which I rocked her when she was an infant, and in which I sat even before she was born, staring around the decorated nursery and wondering what it would be like to have a little girl. In those days, I pictured the child-to-be as, I don't know, being a bit more docile. Less like a cyclone.

But as I rocked her tonight, her little head resting in the crook of my arm, while she whispered, "I love you, Mommy," and I whispered it back, I knew I was quite happy with exactly what I was given.