a perfect child

 

A perfect child.

She is.

She told my mother and me that yesterday.

We were sitting in the kitchen chatting, and she mentioned she had been a perfect child.

“I didn’t cry or throw fits.  I slept with one foot up on the side of the basket.  I was small and easy to carry, and I got potty trained right away.”

 

Sigh.   It’s somewhat true. She was an agreeable baby, a happy toddler, but let’s not get carried away.

 My mom looked at her out the corner of her eye, trying not to laugh.

I said, “Yeah, you were perfect up until you BROKE THE COUCH!”

She looked at me with big eyes.

“Julia, I’ve had TEN KIDS, and you are the only one who has ever BROKEN THE COUCH.  Think about that.”

She laughed, “Sorry.”

Whee.

Today was a very peaceful Friday.  Tim had a haircut.  We went grocery shopping and cooked meals for John and Dannell to eat next week when he’s back at work.

I even gave Sam a bath and that’s no small project.  I have to put on shorts and get in the tub.  (We have a weird tub, 4 feet square.)   She rolled her eyes up at me miserably, and made a couple attempts to exit, and I had to drag her back in again, pulling on her skin and fur.

But now she smells much nicer, like tulips, as John said.

And Julia?  Life is much easier once you've broken that perfection barrier and can be happy with just good enough.

You are such a great girl, but please do not jump twenty-six times on the couch.  

 

love forever, Mom