Date nite (or) Remembering to enjoy her

A while back I told you about struggles that we had been having with the kids being very difficult due to all of the demands on on them , and their lack of one-on-one time with us. Part of our solution (look at me taking credit... actually, it was all Guy's idea) was to start having a weekly date-nite, rotating through the kids so they each got a date a month with mom and one with dad. Guy has been wonderful about making sure to get home early to take the kids, and about making it possible for me to do the same.

Last night it was Ellie's turn.

Since she was born, Ellie has been a wild child. She learned to walk at 8 months, and was running two weeks later. She learned to wink when she was a year old. She is a giggling, brother pestering, twirling and dancing, mess making, non-stop eating, chatter-box. She never stops talking, not even in her sleep.

Sometimes I don't particularly appreciate her finer qualities. Sometimes, lots of times, I get, well... annoyed. We clash a lot. She's opinionated and bossy, a real little smarty pants... sort of like

...me.

Last night was good for us. She had me laughing the whole night. We ate (her favorite activity), and after she was done with her food, she polished off the rest of mine and then announced, "I'm still hungry!"

Next we held hands into the pet store and looked at fish and cats and talked about hairless rats.

She insisted that we go "one more place". Target was close, so we popped in. We stopped into the bathroom and soon Ellie had people in other stalls giggling as they listened to the chatter-machine in action. And who knew the high powered hand dryer could be so entertaining?





"Can we try on shoes?" She said after we had oogled over the sparkly jewelry.

Three inch stilettos... no problem!

"Ah, and furs, dahling." Very Fancy Nancy-esque. She even began to sport a hoity-toity British accent.

It was getting late. Time to head home and get to bed. "One more picture!" she shouts...

On the day when she was born, I was the one to look between those chubby little legs to see what she was; boy or girl.

.

"It's a girl!" I had said, not with bursting jubilance, but with tearful tenderness and adoration. I had so wanted to have girl, but was still surprised. Oh, the possibilities, the fun of having a daughter to raise, to teach those feminine rights of passage to, to share the female world with. But somehow in the hubbub of life I had forgotten all my plans to enjoy her.

.

Last night she reminded me.