So we’re in the middle of her bike ride home today and all of the sudden Aria stops.
“Mom, wait. I have to do yoga so I can bike again.”
She proceeds to get off and starts with some sort of warrior I pose. Then she bends over, hands and feet on the ground.
“Down dog!” she exults.
She gets back up, takes in a satisfied breath and says
“I did my yoga! Now I can bike again!”
Oh how she makes me laugh!
I often say to you, “Hey, guess what?”
You giggle and say “I don’t know.”
I grin and grab you close and laugh and whisper: “I love you Aria.”
You always laugh too. You grab my face and come until you are right next to me and whisper: “I love you too.”
“I said to myself I could be an astronaut when I grow up and I could swim to the moon. But actually I am going to be Elsa when I grow up.”
It hurts my heart how genuinely sad Aria is on Monday mornings. I probably hold her for too long before I leave her at school, but I don’t care. I can hold her, so I do. And I stroke her hair and just love her. That’s what moms do, right?
I love collecting wildflowers for Aria on hikes and bike rides. I try to find every color and every variety. Then she’ll hold onto them for an hour or longer sometimes. It’s just another way I tell her I love here.
Dad: “So what did you dream about honey?”
Aria: “I dreamt that daddy fly. And i could swim, in the water! And Mommy could clean.”
Later that day.
Aria: There is an ice pack on the floor and I checked and it’s not cold anymore. I think we need to put it in the fridge.”
Dad (cheekily): “Hmm. Sounds like a job for the one with the cleaning superpowers!”
“Mommy. I miss our old house.”
“Oh really. Why?”
“Because our old house was so famous!”