Tonight my little girl was getting kind of fussy (as she does from time to time) and when this happens, she usually starts yapping at us. We hear, "Wah! Wah! Wah!" But what she is actually saying is, "Buy me more plastic crap! I am bored with everything up in here."
So, I put her in the laundry basket and started pushing her around the house. She was quiet at first and then she started to really get into it. First came concern. She gets that from me. Is this safe? Is this laundry basket ISO 2009 certified? Then, her smile starts to creep at the corners of her mouth erupting into full belly laughs.
Yes, my husband was trying to fold the clothes (and I did not want to discourage this) - and this was definitely hindering progress, but she was having a good time. Laundry can wait, right? I can wear the same jeans and t-shirt that I have been wearing since the day she was born. Why should today be any different?
So, after a couple of rounds around the apartment, my legs were tired and I was kind of winded. Lame, for sure. Whose body is this anyway? And so I straightened up and I put my arms out and said, "Up?" This is the part where she will put her hands out for me to pick her up.
But no hands. She was still holding on, white-knuckles and all. She starts rocking back and forth. She wanted me to push her around again!
So I did - at the risk of pulling my hamstring and being on the DL for the next Gymboree class.
By the end of Round 3, I was hitting the inhaler and my husband was throwing in the towel from my corner.
And so she had a little fun before bed for the cost of the depreciation on our laundry basket.
And it made me realize, yet again, how little she needs to be happy. She loves her fun, brightly-colored, shiny plastic crap. She does. But she spends far more of her time playing with the basting brush and the whisk on the floor of the kitchen. Or her daddy's watch. Or this laptop (missing Alt-key and all).
It made me think of my parents and the things they "made do" with. That's good stuff. No one has stories about how they got everything they ever wanted and how great it was. The best stories are the ones where you had to get creative, or when you didn't get what you wanted so you tried to make one out of PVC pipe (you don't want to know).
I want to give my little girl everything. An imagination, a value system and a have-to-have-it item here and there. But most of all, I want to give her stories about her childhood that make her feel like I do now. Grateful, warm, lucky and loved.
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