Elle loves me.
I know, I know. She's my daughter. Of course she loves me. But she really, really loves me. Of everyone she loves, she loves me the best. Of everyone who loves me, she's the one who loves me the most.
At least a dozen times a day Elle will suddenly stop whatever she's doing to tell me how much she loves me. She gives me countless hugs and kisses. She loves to sit on my lap and cuddle with me. She says the sweetest things me to me.
"Mama, I'm a lovebug today."
"Why's that baby?"
"It's because I love you so much."
When I pick her up from preschool she is always overjoyed to see me at the door. "Mama!" she squeals happily, her whole face lighting up. She greets me as though we had been apart for two months instead of two hours.
Elle wants to be just like me. When I stand in front of the bathroom mirror and put on make-up she stands right next to me and taps a clean make up brush against her face. When I read a book she curls up on the couch next to me and "reads" a book of her own. When I cook dinner she's right there next me, standing on a chair and waiting for her chance to stir a pot.
Sometimes she climbs down from her chair so she can stand behind me and run her little hands over the small of my back. It's her version of a back rub. It's the same way she wakes me up in the morning. She climbs into my bed, kisses my cheek and gently rubs my back. Then she says loudly "Mama! Your tummy is getting so big!"
It won't last forever, me being her favorite. Some day she'll realize I'm not as fantastic as she thinks I am now. Until that day I'm going to soak all this wonderful baby love and enjoy being my favorite girl's favorite girl.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Elle loves me.