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cousin camper: little friend

July 8, 2011

I’m going to try my hardest to be objective, but I know I’m going to fail, so I’ll just get my bias out of the way right now: I have the sweetest, cutest, loveliest, charming-est, bestest little girl.  Ever.  She pretty much rocks my universe.  (Even when she’s whiny, needy, clingy, and grumpy.  Still the bestest.) There.  I feel better now that I’ve got that off my chest.  Moving on…


She’s at that age where the unseen world is as entrancing as the touchable world around us.  Yesterday over a snack of chocolate chips, she announced, “I not want Jesus in my heart.”  Hmmm.  Not the direction I’d hoped we were headed, but my fears were allayed with the next pronouncement: “Jesus come out of my tummy.  Eat chocolate chips with me.”  So there we were: Mama, Little Friend, and imaginary Jesus perched on the table.  “Jesus not Baby Jesus any more.”  Interesting.  Why?  “Baby Jesus eat chocolate chips.  Grow up big.”  Okey-dokey.


A common refrain around my house these days goes like this: “Mama.  Pick up me, please.”

Because she needs to crack the egg “all by self.”  Because she needs to see the birds at the bird feeder.  Because she’s scared of the distant rumble of a vacuum cleaner.  Because she just needs a moment to bury her head in my neck and shut out the rest of the world.

Each day with Little Friend teaches me to press pause on life’s fast-forward progress into the future.

Life should be slow enough to catch each drip of ice cream.


Life should be slow enough to wallow in the pits (provided it’s a ball pit).

Each day with Little Friend reminds me to tuck a scrap of the day into my pocket to later sew into this virtual patchwork quilt of a blog.  Preserving moments I’d like to take with me as a comfort blanket in the future.  Especially the moments when Jesus’ face is smudged with chocolate chips.

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