She Has No Idea

Tonight as I waited for Bugs to finish brushing her teeth and join me on her bed for reading time, I snuggled down into her bed and lay there staring at her ceiling. The soft pale yellow walls were soothing and I admired her cute little pink fan, her white four poster bed and the closet of neatly lined up dresses and sweaters.

I let myself retreat into a little fantasy that I was the 6 year old and was laying in my own bed waiting for my mom to come in and read me books then tuck me into bed. That the myriad of responsibilities waiting for me the very next day would be someone else's and not my concern. All that worried me was the list of easy chores on the wall, and would my friend be able to play tomorrow.

I did a snow angel in her cotton sheets and blankets and wondered why I never realized how good I had it when I was 6. I marveled that to my daughter, these bedroom accouterments have just miraculously appeared for her pleasure, and is not aware that they're actually the product of a certain number of hours of labor. Oh, the bliss of ignorance.

No, I guess I don't wish I was 6 - just wish for one day I could live in that complete freedom of myself.