"No, baby, not right now. I have a headache," pointing to the offending cranium, I broke it down to terms she would better understand, "My head hurts. It hurts."
"Oh. . . . You need pillow?"
"That would be great, baby." Running out of the room, she returned quickly with a tiny, seafoam-colored cushion from her own bed. Touched, I laid my head gingerly on her proffered pillow. Reaching for the remote, she offered to start a show for me.
"Actually, sweetheart, I don't think Rock-a-Doodle would help."
"Oh. . . . Dora?"
"Sure, honey, that sounds wonderful."
Later, as I rose from the couch, she inquired, "Mommy, you sick?"
What a compassionate little girl we are raising.
Later, I giggled in delight as she sat with me for her bedtime story and continued to shove her nose to mine, begging quietly to turn the page. My heart swelled with affection for this precious being. How can one love to such a degree? It seems impossible.
And yet I do so daily - and not just for one little child, but for both. What a miracle.