Baby Girl and I are curled up on the couch in the morning. PJs still firmly on both of us, Dora on the tv, little girl tucked neatly into my side with thumb in her mouth. I’m reading a post-apocalyptic novel and in a very grueling section it talks about parents sending their children away so they don’t die and how many of those children perish anyway.
As I read each sequential line of this section, my eyes tear up and my grip on my girl gets stronger and stronger, until the moment when I’m sobbing like a mad woman and clinging on to her for dear life. That’s the moment the thumb sucking stops and two little eyes turn on me with a, “What in the world is wrong with you mom?” look. Her gaze gives me a stare that says, “No, seriously? What’s with you lady?” And after a few seconds, she patronizingly pats my arm and says, “It’s okay…it’s okay.”
She must think I really take it hard when Swiper takes something from Dora.