I have a lovely, creative, intelligent three year old daughter. I am the first to admit that we are incredibly blessed to have her in our family.
daily sometimes, she drives me crazy.
The other day, the little girl comes into my room about fifteen minutes after the crack of dawn. Which, sadly, is a great improvement. She snuggles her little body against mine and says, “I don’t like that scary store.” I rack my freshly awakened mind for a few moments to see if I have any idea of what she is talking about. I don’t.
“What scary store sweetie?” I ask. The little girl looks disgustedly at me as I vainly strive to keep my eyes open. “The scary, SCARY store Momma!”
I’ve got nothing. Not a single clue of what she is talking about. So I do what moms do best. I fake it. “Oooohhhh. That store. Why was it so scary again?”
“You were there Momma,” she answers suspiciously, “You should know!” Apparently the children are wise to my faking-it-til-I-make-it routine. Poopy.
Okay, this is serious. I sit up and look my girl straight in the eyes, “Exactly what store are you talking about?”
“The scary store in my dreams! And you were right there!”
I firmly believe deep breathing and mentally chanting, “This child’s a gift. This child’s a gift. This child’s a freakin’ gift.” is why she is still healthy and in one piece today.