the power of toddlers. i awoke to it. my early morning riser, who used to greet me with kisses and hugs to assure i was awake, now takes liberty if i, in fact, am not. a late awakening means there's sure to be a tootie'esque suprise when i arise.
on sheets and floors, on laptops and books. in ears, in hair, in random places of random spaces in the room, toots emptied out the entire bottle. clapping, stomping, throwing it in the air, as she delighted in her long awaited dream of powder play.
i closed my eyes and counted.
she's almost two, i reason. by default, she's fueled by exploration. excited by new scenes, smells, sound, taste and feelings daily. this is natural. i place myself in her "shoes" and envision the sensations she felt. imagined the joy of discovering the forgotten, and foolishly left opened, bottle. imagined the giggles that arose, first moment she squeezed white clouds into air. this is okay, i tell myself, perfectly o.k. the room smells like lavender and mischief and innocence and that trumps all the messy residuals left for me to clean.
i wipe. i sweep. i mop. i snap. and an hour and a half later, all is right in our world...