She comes to me in the kitchen.
She is limping and whimpering and there is a scowl on her face.
She pulls up her pant leg and turns her ankle sideways to show me the skin that is scraped off the back of her heel.
"Oh, that looks like it hurts - how'd you do that?" I ask.
She explains that she scraped her foot while playing chase with her brother and continues to look up at me with tears in her eyes. She pulls on her pant leg to keep the injured foot exposed.
"Do you need a Band-Aid?" I ask.
"No," she whines.
"Do you want me to wrap it?" I ask.
"No," she whines.
"Do you want me to kiss it?" I offer.
She grins and then ... steps towards me and raises her foot up in the air.
I kiss the open wound.
I send her off to take a bath and she goes.
She begs for bubbles in her bath and so I go to her and pour the rose scented lotion into the water.
She requests a glass of ice water.
She summons me when it is time to wash and rinse her hair.
She yells for me to go to her bedroom to bring her her pajamas.
Soon, she comes from the bathroom with a fluffy, green towel wrapped around her wet body. Before she leaves my room, she tosses her dirty clothes on the floor inside my bathroom.
She wanders off and I don't see her for a while.
At bedtime, I call her to come upstairs to brush her teeth and after much complaining she comes.
I hear the water running in the bathroom.
I hear splashing and spitting.
I hear humming.
When she is finished she comes to my room and stands beside me at my desk.
She throws her arms around me and lays her head on my shoulder.
"Did you brush your teeth?" I ask, and lay my head against hers.
"Yes," she talks softly.
"Did you just wipe your wet hands all over my shirt?" I give her a knowing look.
She giggles.
On the upside ... I am ... the mother.
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