She asked me to wake her up early so we could do this: five colors, two fingers in each color.
Now that it is finally blue and bright out in the morning, we have also been getting up early to try some of the fancier hair-dos in this book.
Squeezing this extra (sometimes ONLY) just-the-two-of-us time into our days has been...mood-enhancing? attitude-adjusting? maybe even life-altering?
Yes, all of that, I think. For us both.
Because it seems that as a result of Dubbadad and I and all of her loving grandparents trying so hard over the years to make everything as 'fair' and balanced as we can, and occasionally -- on the way to learning that this is an impossible and unrealistic endeavor -- making too big a deal about it when we 'fail,' this girl of ours is very, very aware of the divvying up of attention.
She carries a clipboard and a tally-sheet and a very sharp pencil in her brain, Aliza does. There are tick-marks and bar graphs and pie charts and Venn diagrams in there.
There are days where I fret about disappointing her, about damaging her, and I beat myself about the head and shoulders with licorice whips of guilt.
And there are days where I just shrug, hope hard that chatting in the mirror while braiding her hair will satisfy, and quote Westley in "The Princess Bride":
"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."And I remind myself that she would throw us all over for half an hour of inclusive activity with her Ander.
(So, you know, it's all on him, heh, heh, heh.)