"I'm not happy about this."
-- Sofia, after getting a bandage on the scrape on her knee.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
We're glad you're here
Every once in a while. Sofia says or does something that really catches me off guard.
Tonight was one of those once in a whiles. The kind that makes me wonder if, as much as we think she's a little genius, we're still underestimating just how smart and perceptive she truly is.
She took longer than usual to collect to get to bed – the result of a too-long nap at day care – and was being kind of difficult getting set up for our bedtime ritual. Don’t turn off the light, daddy. You sit here. No, I turn the pages. Etc.
But sure enough, about 15 minutes later after some howling on her part, when she was finally set up in bed and I was reading to her, her little angel aspect reappeared, recognizing letters, reciting memorized Suessian passages and chatting with me in her sing-songy little girl voice, grinning at me with that beautiful little girl face.
“My birthday’s coming soon,” she said.
Up for a challenge, I asked her – “what’s going to happen on your birthday?"
“I’m going to get presents,” she said.
And what else?
“I’m going to have a party.”
And what will you do there?
“Play with my friends.”
And what are you going to eat?
“Cake!”
And what are you going to sing?
“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday Sofia, Happy birthday to you,” she sang.
We giggled and smiled. And then she really blew me out out of the water.
“I’m glad I’m here,” she said.
And then a little later she asked: “Are you glad I’m here?”
“Every single day I wake up, I’m glad you’re here,” I told her. “Every single day.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said.
As soon as she was down to bed .. sort of .. I ran downstairs to the computer to see if my memory was correct. Lo and behold, I wrote this the day before her very first birthday party:
Do you know why your birthday is such a big deal? Because celebrating it means celebrating the very fact that you are here with us, and that we are so glad you are! Someday when you’re bigger, I hope you will always feel the same way – that it’s a day to say “I’m glad I’m me and I’m glad I’m here!”
How did she do that? How did she know?
I’m absolutely thrilled, mystified and emotionally blown away by this. How did she know? Did she read my mind? Read our blog? But then again, I also wrote this in that same post:
And yet it is as if you have always been with us; that despite the fact you are still relatively brand new in our world, we have known and loved you our whole lives.
Maybe that explains everything.
Oh, and before I put her to bed she asked "Am I beautiful?"
"Of course you are," I told her. "You're very beautiful. Especially here, where it counts," I said, pointing to her heart. "You are beautiful and don't let anyone tell you different."
She really is.
Tonight was one of those once in a whiles. The kind that makes me wonder if, as much as we think she's a little genius, we're still underestimating just how smart and perceptive she truly is.
She took longer than usual to collect to get to bed – the result of a too-long nap at day care – and was being kind of difficult getting set up for our bedtime ritual. Don’t turn off the light, daddy. You sit here. No, I turn the pages. Etc.
But sure enough, about 15 minutes later after some howling on her part, when she was finally set up in bed and I was reading to her, her little angel aspect reappeared, recognizing letters, reciting memorized Suessian passages and chatting with me in her sing-songy little girl voice, grinning at me with that beautiful little girl face.
“My birthday’s coming soon,” she said.
Up for a challenge, I asked her – “what’s going to happen on your birthday?"
“I’m going to get presents,” she said.
And what else?
“I’m going to have a party.”
And what will you do there?
“Play with my friends.”
And what are you going to eat?
“Cake!”
And what are you going to sing?
“Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday Sofia, Happy birthday to you,” she sang.
We giggled and smiled. And then she really blew me out out of the water.
“I’m glad I’m here,” she said.
And then a little later she asked: “Are you glad I’m here?”
“Every single day I wake up, I’m glad you’re here,” I told her. “Every single day.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too,” she said.
As soon as she was down to bed .. sort of .. I ran downstairs to the computer to see if my memory was correct. Lo and behold, I wrote this the day before her very first birthday party:
Do you know why your birthday is such a big deal? Because celebrating it means celebrating the very fact that you are here with us, and that we are so glad you are! Someday when you’re bigger, I hope you will always feel the same way – that it’s a day to say “I’m glad I’m me and I’m glad I’m here!”
How did she do that? How did she know?
I’m absolutely thrilled, mystified and emotionally blown away by this. How did she know? Did she read my mind? Read our blog? But then again, I also wrote this in that same post:
And yet it is as if you have always been with us; that despite the fact you are still relatively brand new in our world, we have known and loved you our whole lives.
Maybe that explains everything.
Oh, and before I put her to bed she asked "Am I beautiful?"
"Of course you are," I told her. "You're very beautiful. Especially here, where it counts," I said, pointing to her heart. "You are beautiful and don't let anyone tell you different."
She really is.
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