My Sweet, Wonderful, Born in my Heart, Daughter

This morning has been, hummm…. lets see, somewhat less than peaceful. I heard the birds singing, the air was cool and clear…. and then it was time to get up. Grace came bounding into my room and threw herself against the bed (something kids with high sensory needs tend to do a lot of). She plopped her sack of marbles on the bed and began to show me her favorites. I should have known at that point the direction the morning would take.

Cereal was eaten straight out of the box (not something I’m in the habit of, but then again, it’s her box) and the smart-aleky attitude started. I nearly forgot (how could I do that??) to give Grace her medicine so I got up again to retrieve the needed dose.

Once her cereal was consumed Grace was instructed to start picking up her messes in the house. She trotted off to begin her chore while I went in to visit with Emily (who had a difficult night).

Emily was sleeping so I went back to Grace at the kitchen table where I found her…. painting the palm of her hand.

“Grace! Go wash your hands. You’re supposed to be cleaning up! (I’m a little exasperated at this point) Then you need to go to your room and get dressed.”

So upstairs she went, talking a mile a minute, to no one in particular. I went to my room which is right under hers. Suddenly a familiar sound beat came through the ceiling.

“Grace, stop dancing and get dressed!”

We finished our morning routine about the same time and met each other in the hallway. Back in the kitchen she goes to the table to show me her flower painting. Its cute and I tell her so.

She is calmer now, her medication is working. We talk about shells and marbles. I place my hand on her head and tell her how thankful I am that she is my daughter, and that she is just perfect, and how lucky we are to have her. She responds with, “I know, and you’re lucky I’m your daughter too, honey!”

I’m relishing our sincere and lovely moment. But my head is stuffy with a cold so I reach for the day-time cold medicine. It’s the liquid type and the little medicine cup isn’t on top. Oh that’s right, I washed it out the last time I used it. Should be on the counter here but I can’t find it.

“Grace, have you seen the medicine cup?”

She ambles back into the kitchen and then hands me a green-grey goopy cup. “Here it is mom….. I used it to paint with. And mom, you’re wonderful too.”

How could I be upset with her for using the medicine cup now? With that statement she’s worked her way a couple more inches into my heart now. And even though it she may be covered with blue-green paint, and chocolate around her mouth, and tries to sneak jelly bellies, and takes the crackers up to her room to eat, she’s still my wonderful, born in my heart, adorable wonderful daughter.