Enjoying Calliope

Impromptu cuddle in the big chair

There's no "I" in team

I met the nanny and the two girls at the playground after work today.

As I peered through the wrought iron gate and the crowded scene by the toddler climbing structure, I spied Calliope. She didn't see me , but was intently watching another toddler as his mother spoke to him -- fascinated but with a half smile on her face, as if waiting to be let in on a joke.

She was wearing an unfamiliar dress -- the nanny dressed her this morning, in a hand me down I didn't remember -- and perhaps that, plus seeing her amongst all these other little children, made her stand out. She seemed impossibly small compared to the older and sturdier toddlers. And she just radiated beauty. It was as if there was a golden halo around her, and everyone around her faded in comparison. The sun reflected off her hair, her clear skin glowed. She just shone so brightly.

I reckon this is the quintessential experience of motherhood. Seeing your child as your own personal Jesus, golden halo and all... at least until your child spies you.

In my child's case, she saw me, her eyes lit up... and she whirled around and toddled away as fast as her short legs could carry her. There's nothing like running away to say "I love you too, Mommy."

Other loving moments:

She now calls me "Money!"

This is both apt and ironic on so many levels. Of course I am completely bankrolling her. And of course, I feel pretty darn broke. Or at least, so far from affluent that I'm certainly not deserving of such a nickname.

She likes to repeat it over and over.

"Money!"

"Yes."

"Money!"

"Yes."

Her and her Big Sister Friend, Annabelle, like to play a game where Annabelle tries to say "Money!" at the exact same time that Calliope does. Every time she does, Calliope breaks into uproarious laughter.

She also calls me by my first name sometimes. I never really know how to react to that, but generally answer. I mean, it is my name, right?

Playing with her new-to-her trains. Note the drool of concentration.

Meanwhile, my daughter's special nickname for my mother?

It's "Hello?" with one hand pressed to her ear in the universal sign for a cell phone.

And finally, Calliope used to like to stand in front of me and slap both of my cheeks at the same time. Not meanly, she just liked the sound.

Whenever she did this, I would grab her hands and place them gently on my cheeks, and say, "Gentle. Gentle touch."

Now she stands in front of me and gently, lovingly, passionately strokes my cheeks as she gazes into my eyes. It's very Harlequin Romance.

Postscript: someone on the SMC Forum asked if she still has a mullet. So glad she asked!

Work in front (aka her hair is pretty short in front and on the sides)

... But a party in the back! Just look at that skinny ponytail!

The mullet reigns!