Last night, as Tori and I snuggled together in her chair, getting ready for good night, we had a little talk.
“What did you do today, sweetie?”
“I pwayed outside.”
“You did? Was it fun?”
“Yeah. Pwayed water.”
“You played in the water?”
“Yeah. I got wet.”
“You did, I know. Who did you play with?”
“Pawker. And Emma. Emma’s nice!”
“Emma’s your friend, huh.”
“Yeah! Emma fwiend. Mommy?”
“I go school tomowow?”
“Yeah, baby. You have to go to school again tomorrow.”
“Yay!” she said, clapping her hands as she grinned from ear to ear.
Shortly after that, I kissed her good night and closed the door, jumping back into my busy life. But not without a warm glow in my heart.
Because that simple little conversation? That was the first conversation we’d ever had like that. And hearing her chatter reminded me of the conversations I used to have with my mom.
I’d jump up on the counter in the kitchen, watching as she baked, or made dinner, or did dishes. I’d tell her about my day—about the fun I had in school, or about the mean girl who teased me, or about the Esprit bags that were sooooo cool.
And she’d listen. She knew when to let me vent, and when I needed help working through a problem. I don’t remember what she said, exactly. I just remember feeling safe. And loved. And happy.
They were just small moments. But they were special.
And Tori and I? We’re taking the first steps down that same path. A lifetime of mother daughter talks lies before us. And I? Can’t wait to share them with her.