Last night, after a bedtime story, as Micaiah finished her stack of crackers and cup of water, while Emmett and Daddy had a heart-to-heart about the younger's recent tantrum, I decided to ask Micaiah about her evening.
"Did you have fun tonight?"
"Who did you play with?
"I pay wit James and Deyton and . . . Jack."
"What did you play?"
"We slide and we swing and . . . we pull and another swing. But the other swing broke."
"The other swing broke?"
[Nod] "And we pay ball when we share . . ."
And so the conversation went. Me producing questions, her searching her brain for the details of the day, until, finally, she didn't even need prompts. The words spilled forth as she realized she had a willing audience. No whining. No demands. No bossing. No arguing. Just talking. About her day. And when we had exhausted all talking points, I pronounced it was time for bed and she actually agreed. Not fussy. Just ready.
These are the kinds of talks I have looked forward to since before learning I would have a daughter. I eagerly await further evening discussions with my blessed children.