More Will Be Revealed

After a full day (out to breakfast, grocery shopping, secret errands and a trip to Toys R Us to buy her a new bike), we found ourselves at about 3 p.m., discussing Ella's quiet time (or not). It was too late for a nap, but I wanted her to have some quiet time in her room...not too much, because she would be leaving in two hours, but some, on principle. Amazingly, at age 5, Ella willingly takes quiet time in her room and even still naps on occasion. On this day, I suggested 30 minutes of quiet time; she countered with an hour (I know -- weird that she wanted more, but she is fond of the roundess of the one hour figure, I guess). I said how about 45 minutes. She said an hour or none. I said 45 minutes again, and I explained it would be a compromise -- when two people have different ideas of how to do things, you meet in the middle, so each person gets some of what they want.

This was acceptable to my hard-bargain-driving 5-year-old. Once in her room, she insisted on the timer (she likes to know how much time is left). I said, "Why don't I set it for 30 minutes, and we'll see how you're doing then." My rationale: she was working on Mother's Day cards for three of her five "grandmothers" and that should be done by 30 minutes. No, really, I wasn't trying to pull a fast one. But Ella was on to me, no matter what. "I thought you said 45 minutes?" "Um, let's try 30 and see how that goes," I respond.

"But 30 minutes doesn't have any of my idea in it."

Yes, you read that right. Ella cogently called me on my wanton disregard of our compromise. 45 minutes represented some of her idea because it was closer to an hour, which was her preference. Just want to make sure you get the subtle genius and logical thinking of this amazing child. Man, she grew up in my eyes again today, between the brain activity and the trip around the block on her new bike. Wow -- she's a kid! Not a child -- a kid. How cool. And a kid with childlike needs at times, like when she woke up Saturday afternoon after a bad dream.

I can't close without mentioning a seminal moment on Saturday: Lindsay's first giggle. An adorable little laugh sprung forth from this precious thing on her 65th day of existence, and it sent all of us off on a glorious ride. Baby giggles can do that -- they are an infectious, unstoppable tide of mirth...one listen and you start to laugh yourself, and under the right circumstances, the cycle continues and perpetuates and this is one of the happier instances in life, I tell you. Nicola was holding Lindsay, who had been dazzling me with smiles all weekend, and I was holding Ella, and we three older ones were all beaming down into Lindsay's dancing eyes, and chicken or egg, I don't know if we laughed and then she giggled or vice versa, but it was a moment of sheer delight for all.

(My eloquence is less than eloquent these days. I would like to blame sleep deprivation, but the slumber has improved around here. Not sure what it is -- I just feel like I'm struggling to express myself and to adequately share what's going on. Maybe I should go back to writing about the past -- like about the time I drove through the night to Jacksonville for the Gator Bowl and I tried to sleep in my car in a Howard Johnson's parking lot (everything was booked up and down the Atlantic Coast on I-5), and then I tried to kill time in a Waffle House...but 5 hour is far too long to spend in a Waffle House in Jax when you've been up all night...but it's too short to get a hotel room in the dive behind the Waffle House...or is it? I opted for the dive and a few hours of sleep.

Hmm. That's not all that entertaining either. Maybe I just need to cut myself some slack and write from the heart...it feels a bit like I'm watching my words now that I have the tiniest of audiences. MWBR has turned into a log of events instead of an exploration of my life, past present future. And I seemed more entertaining to me earlier...but I'm not all that objective about my own ramblings.

// posted by Bill @ 6:52 PM