Flying Horses

Sometimes my kids just kill me.  I mean, out of nowhere comes a moment of sweet innocence and adorableness and love all smooshed together until it's the perfect projectile for smacking me between the eyes and making me cry like an idiot.

Last week when my mom was visiting, Vander was watching tv with his sister and suddenly turned to Grandma (who was painting) and said, "Gamma, I lub you!"  I was blown away.  He had never said that in that way, cutting out other distractions and saying it because he thought it, not because we'd just said it to him or done something nice for him.

Since then, he's said it to me a lot.  Sometimes I'll be busy and he'll demand my attention with an insistant (and annoying) "Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!" to which I respond with an exasperated "WHAT, Vander?"  And then a slow grin spreads across his face and he says, "I lub you!"

Wow.

Tonight, I had already put him down to bed and was working on Annalee.  They each get to choose two songs for bedtime.  One of Annalee's is usually "Castle on a Cloud" from Les Miserables.  I have been singing it to her as a lullaby since she was a baby, substituting her name for Cosette's.  The words are:

There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren't any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a room that's full of toys,
There are a hundred boys and girls,
Nobody shouts or talks too loud,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a lady all in white,
Holds me and sings a lullaby,
She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,
She says "Annalee, I love you very much."

I know a place where no one's lost,
I know a place where no one cries,
Crying at all is not allowed,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
After hearing this song for years, she mused the other night, "I wonder how that lady takes care of a hundred boys and girls."  That led to us imagining what the castle must be like: full of magic and a wonderful place for everyone.

So tonight, she asked me to tell her more about my castle.  I told her my castle would have hundreds of flying horses to give you a ride to wherever you wanted to go: to the top of the castle, to another cloud, or down to earth.  That spark set off her imagination and, eyes shining, she told me a long story about how she would whistle for her pegasus and go down to earth to visit me, where I was visiting Grandma.  As she spun her tale, the tears rolled down my cheeks and I just thought how much I love this little girl.  I am so proud of her imagination.  I am awed by her trust in me.  And I am ashamed that I don't slow down more often during the day, put aside what I am doing, and pay more attention to what she is doing and thinking.

She's about to turn 5.  This Fall she'll be in kindergarten.  Unlike many parents, I am not dreading that day, upset that my child is growing up.  I am really, really excited for her to get more challenge, interaction, and stimulation than she has been getting at home.  I am thrilled for the new things she will learn and do.  But tonight, I wondered how many more stories about flying horses she will tell me.