NOT WATCHING IT
One day I spoke gruffly to my little daughter. “If you don’t watch it, young lady, I’m going to pick you up and whirl you around and hug you and kiss you.” Her eyes narrowed. Gravely she said, “I’m not watching it, Mom.” I solemnly filled my arms with my daughter, spun her round and round, and then kissed my bundle until we both were giggling. I know this was a good thing, one of the many, quick, marvelous moments between parent and child. It might have been fleeting, but she wanted to do it again and again, then call her dad to tell him. I repeat it just often enough with my daughter to keep the chuckle fresh. I like it especially when she comes and finds me, peeling carrots or sitting at the typewriter, and, holding back a smile, says, “I’m not watching it, Mom.” Already my daughter is 38 pounds. I won’t always be able to scoop her…
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