Little Things

Lately, I wake up in the morning to,

"Mommy, Daddy, Bubba, Amy, Elmo?"

She peers over me and repeats again. "Mommy, Daddy, Bubba, Amy, Elmo?"

I explain: Daddy is at work, Bubba is sleeping in his kennel , Amy is in San Francisco with Adam, and Elmo? Well, let's go find Elmo.

My response seems to satisfy her. Then, we search for her stuffed Elmo, a treat Josh bought for her at his beloved Big Lots.

Later on, she will demand that we dance. As I search for music on the iPod, she starts jumping up and down, awkwardly leaving an inch or so from the ground. She freezes when she hears Beyonce and frowns. She likes to dance to guitars. I play The Ramones and she throws her arms into the air, excited by the sound.

At some point, she'll find a pillow and lay on the living room carpet. Not because she likes to sleep, but because she loves to pretend to sleep. She tells me she is going to sleep, but it sounds like: "Sheeps Mommy Sheeps."

And I smile.