I struggle sometimes celebrating Lily's small victories or milestones, conflicted by some superstitious dread that I'll somehow jinx it, that a celebration of a week without any potty accidents will inevitably lead to a day with ten. I'm even worse at relaying celebratory stories with friends. Every story shared about Lily with my peers requires a recap of where she is now and where she's come from in order to lend the listener any kind of context of the enormity of what they might consider the tiniest of milestones without.
I'm trying to get better at letting myself celebrate. It's not fair to my daughter if I don't. We celebrated Emma's milestones. And yeah, they were "typical" milestones, but no more valid or momentous in their relative context. And it's denying myself a little extra sunshine. And why? No rational reason that I can determine.
This morning she stood very close to her big sister, just invaded her personal space, blundering happily over and standing uncomfortably close to Emma as she sat eating her morning breakfast. This is a physical closeness she rarely seeks out with anyone unless thoroughly exhausted. And her big sister just smiled indulgently and let her hover; suffering the occasional awkward bump of heads or pull of her hair just to be close to her little sister for a little while, joining our amusement, giggling good-naturedly at bonks and swipes. And it was sweet, and wonderful, and I think we all celebrated a little.
This morning she stood very close to her big sister, just invaded her personal space, blundering happily over and standing uncomfortably close to Emma as she sat eating her morning breakfast. This is a physical closeness she rarely seeks out with anyone unless thoroughly exhausted. And her big sister just smiled indulgently and let her hover; suffering the occasional awkward bump of heads or pull of her hair just to be close to her little sister for a little while, joining our amusement, giggling good-naturedly at bonks and swipes. And it was sweet, and wonderful, and I think we all celebrated a little.
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| A meeting of the minds, or bashing of the skulls? It's a fine line |
And I told Emma how Lily never does that with anyone and made a big deal of it, and I could sense her swell a little with the pride of being Lily's favorite. And when Lily started to get a little rougher, reaching up to grab her hair, or pushing her fingers at her face, I reached across Emma to ward Lily off, and Emma just batted my hand aside reflexively, protectively, and said, "It's okay, Daddy", happy to share even this rough rare closeness with her little sister.
It was a win.
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