One little

Ballerina's Song

I think there is a certain kind of confidence that Daddy's girls have. It comes from that deep rooted bond they share and the security that there is someone that will protect them no matter what. She was a Daddy's girl. You could see it in her expressions. You could read it in her mannerisms.

We played dress up with strands of bana beads. She was layering them on as if she were the Queen of Sheba and now and then draping one over my head or nose which ever was closest at the time. When one of them got caught in her hair, she decided it was time to do something else. Trust me, she let me know real quick.

A few turns of the key on an ornately carved music box, the kind you wind up and this spinner thing tickles little bars to make music, and the world was filled with the sweet sounds of wonderment. This one was playing a delightful tune that reminded me of Mozart. Chubby little fingers didn't always have to hold on for the teeny hip to rock from one side to the other, just dancing. The dainty ballerina didn't even need slippers or a tutu.

Life can be exhausting at that age, so much to see and so much to do. Hard headed determination to wring as much out of it as possible was in direct conflict with ... nap time. Fatigue created a frustration to try and squeeze a few more drops from the moment and that was tiring as well. Nothing could appease the high spirited little beauty. Oh, the unfairness of it all! She began to cry these wracking little sobs that had a stuttered inhale at the end. Sometimes it is best just to let it all out so I let her vent for a bit. Then I began to hear this soft little keening in between the sobs. I thought maybe the music box had gotten stuck on one note. Listening closer I realized she was singing. She was singing then sobbing and stuttering then singing some more. It was enough to just make your heart melt. ... and ... have to try to hide the giggle.

I gathered her up along with her soft little fur and drew her up in the crook of my arm. It was all she needed. That sense of security and warmth and she found it by tucking her head just beneath my chin. Together we sang sweet lullabies until I was the only one singing. For a long time I just held her. It was a selfish thing. All that softness, all that sweetness. I soaked it up as long as I could before I laid her down. Then I kissed her forehead with a lingering.