I love my daughter. It’s true.
I bet you had a hard time figuring that one out…
Even when we love people we get busy and little precious moments turn into mundane events that all bleed into one big ball of schedules and loads of laundry and diaper changes and wednesday night sitcoms.
While our house has been under renovation I have found that these precious times disguised as normal ones have a tendency to show themselves – when things are out of the ordinary…everything is out of the ordinary, everything is special.
Yesterday we started true construction of the kitchen. I put together cabinets while my brother Karl fixed the ancient kitchen stove vent and Andrew framed out the new high hat. When Clare was awake, which was surprisingly little considering the outrageous amount of noise, she and I would go up to loft for some quiet play time.
I laid with Clare on the guest bed and we talked about the day and what she had learn…seriously she did most of the talking…
I kept looking at her and being completely overwhelmed by the beauty of her spirit and her adorable little self. I held her face in my hands as my eyes began to fill with tears.
Just then her eyes met mine and she reached her tiny hand toward my faces as if to mimic the way I had just held hers. I was so moved and touched by her motion of love when suddenly she took her little fingers and grabbed my entire mouth in her hands, squealing with delight as her razor sharp nails dug into my lips.