My daughter and I had lunch today. Just the two of us. The sky was blue with just enough breeze to remind one that it didn't break 80 today. The sun dappled everything we saw until we too became shiny, happy people. We started our morning with a walk with friends, ending with an *actual* walk of a few tottering steps on cement (be still my heart!). The rest of the time, she rode on my back, my little papoose. Still my tiny baby. She's like Caylis now. She knows it's Thursday, and she knows the turn for the park. Also like the dog, she has no concept of sharing---whatever the other baby has, she MUST have it too.
With no desire to head to Ye Pit of Filth, we got Chinese. The wonderful thing about the pre-verbal is that they always agree with your restaurant choice. If only the same could be said for husbands. She began with a pre-lunch appetizer in the car of a little nursing (best seat in the house--we had a view of the pond). She rode in on the sling, HEY! HEY! to everyone she saw, and contently ate steamed broccoli and green beans while I ate my lunch. She flirted shamelessly with a boys soccer team.
Then we headed to the Big Box of Evil. She rode in the cart, not on my back--a treat usually reserved for Daddy outings. My big girl. We uncovered a treasure trove of BARGAINS. She even makes her AR! Ar! Ar! Hey! noises when I slow down to browse a clearance rack. I've taught her well. She inspects each tag, even if some of her selections are a bit dubious (brown camo shorts? baby hiking boots? size 5x silky top? What is she trying to tell me?). She is delighted by the smallest of things--a new sippy cup to hold, new walking shoes for the big girl, jars of baby food (one of which she merrily pitched overboard . . . Clean-up in Aisle 8). We scored baby shoes for $3.50, a whole bunch of onesies and t-shirts for $1 each, $5 sunglasses, $2 and $3 shirts for Mama . . . and oh, yes, the items we came for.
Because she was so good, I let her pick out a new touch and feel book before we checked out. The cashier nicely scanned it while she was holding it, and she held it the whole way home, babbling to herself.
I have a daughter. We go to lunch. We go shopping. We come home, and we nap. We live in a absolutely stunning part of the country (well, not during the Monsoon season). This is as close to perfect as it gets. This is my dream right here. I get so caught up in the little stresses of each day, that I'm blind to the perfection around me. This is it. One perfect day after another demanding that I chronicle it before I get lost in all the "shoulds" and "coulds."
Who did you have lunch with today?



