“You need a hug in the morning, too.” – Pix’l

When she’s older, when I’m older, when the toys have gone or been archived into closets, I’m going to imagine her happily playing with Legos on a sunny September Sunday morning; acting out her wishes and questions, completely engaged in the moment; me in the next room, where I can hear but not be seen, doing my “adult work” while she does her “kid work”; the ideal hour that all the rest of the week works so hard to make happen.

The satisfaction in her joy. The momentary sense that things will work out okay. That I am failing her within acceptable limits.

The oh-so-fleeting sparkle of her innocence. That fragile state of knowing and also not yet knowing. Another childhood, gradually unraveling like a spool of the most precious thread.

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“Well, if school is my job, I wish they would pay me.”