Addie and I had such a sweet moment at bedtime last night. She's practicing "putting herself to bed," meaning one of us no longer falls asleep with her, only to wake up cramped and cranky two hours later, her perched up on one elbow looking at us and smiling. Instead, we're trying to help her put herself to bed, so that she feels safe and loved but also able to go to sleep by herself.
So, we were in her bed, talking about her day, and I was trying to wrap things up so that she'd go to sleep, and I was telling her how much I loved her. "Tons and tons," I said.
"From here to here?" she said, stretching her arms out.
"Bigger," I said.
"From here to there?" she said, pointing to the ceiling.
"Farther," I said.
"Big enough to hold thousands and thousands of stars?" she asked.
"Yes!" I said, beaming at my incredibly poetic, verbal daughter, marveling at how story-like our existence is, how we practically have walked right of the pages of Guess How Much I Love You, a reverse skedaddle from fiction to real-life.
She paused for a moment, looking at me. I imagined her thinking loving thoughts.
Then she pokes me in the boob. And says, "As BIG as your BOOB?"
Yes, you little monster. THAT BIG.