musings of a two year old

I've tucked her in, given her kisses, and told her good night. I read her a story. Twice. And then another story. But she still doesn't want to let me go. She pats her pillow and says "Mommy sleep here." Her blue eyes look at me with expectation, and though I really want to read a book and write on my own book and browse the internet and send an email to a friend, I stop for just another moment to snuggle up beside her.

She insists that I've gotta get under the covers beside her, and so I crawl into her blankets and lay down. Then she sweeps her arms around me and gives me the biggest hug that touches a mother's heart and makes her melt. Then she rolls onto her back, and staring up at the ceiling, she begins to tell me about her day. Her brow is furrowed in a serious expression.

"My lips have colors." She touches her mouth with both her hands. I'm thinking about how great it is that she would say this. I've been pointing out colors more, and I've been reading more color books.

"That's right. You're lips are pink," I say.

"My lips are green." She runs her fingers over her lips, like she's smearing on lip gloss. "My lips are yellow and blue. Kani says something something something, and Rena says..." I can't quite make out what she's saying about what her sisters have told her. But it's quite important to her.

She tells me about a movie she watched. I only understand a few words--the names of the characters--but I just say, "uh-huh." It seems more important to me to let her share what's on her heart than for me to understand every word.

She continues talking for five minutes, and I wish I had a tape recording to remember every part of what she shared with me. To think what I would have missed if I hadn't stayed just a moment longer...