We’re in that bleary-eyed point of night, the time when a parent’s body clock starts sending reminders that the day’s work is almost done. The reward is quiet books in bed and drifting off to sleep under a pile of quilts, and we are in the home stretch, so close I can feel the cracked, dry pages skimming under my fingers. But I only get there if my child cooperates first. And this little one is having a tough night.
You don’t understand, Mom. Everything connects together.
I’m not sure what she’s referring to – it’s just a phrase she pulled in from nowhere, unrelated to what’s happening right now, as I’m trying to put her to bed and walk out the door.
Everything is connected, Mom. Everything.
At school today she celebrated the birthday of one of her favorite teachers.
Is your Mommy going to bake you a cake? my daughter asked her.
No, sweetie. My Mommy’s in heaven.
Then you can borrow my Mommy, my daughter replied.
And when she got home she asked if we could make a cake for her teacher.
Of course, sweetheart, I said. Sometimes it’s all I can do not to cry.
So I mixed batter and baked cupcakes in Little Mermaid wrappers. Topped the cakes with pink frosting roses. Added glittery pink sprinkles. Topped with more love.
Everything is connected.
So I stop my retreat out her door. Sometimes she just needs this – my body next to hers as she falls asleep. I pull up a pillow and lay down on the ground. Kindness deserves kindness.
Everything connects together.