I have had a lot of work these past weeks, so much that I have had to work nights, returning to the computer after dinner and getting the three kids to bed. Except one. The youngest is a night owl. She lights up at night and goes into fifth gear, playing and racing around the house. To catch her and put her to bed, we have to race behind her or try to steer her toward her bed, saying, “Play here, over here, yes, in your bed,” hoping that the sheets and pillows will lull her to sleep.
Tonight she’s in sixth gear. She’s racing. Yet in such a way that it is cute and adorable. She makes us laugh and smile, makes us happy, even with our eyelids heavy with sleep and me with deadlines to meet.
She races into my office/study/kids playroom and looks at me and says, “You work?”
“Yes,” I respond, my eyes focused on the computer to meet a deadline before another deadline and another.
She sees my needs and understands. Out the door of the office she races and returns seconds later with a toy piece of cake. How adorable, I think, and say, “Thank you.” Then I pause and say, “Now get to bed.” The last comment doesn’t register, but she doesn’t linger. She looks at me and understands my needs. Off she bolts out of the office and back she comes in a flash with a bar of scented soap.
Hey! I think, what’s this supposed to mean?
She doesn’t linger.