This email was sent on March 6, 2012. Charlotte was 2 and a half years old.
No matter how crabby I am, no matter how poorly I've slept, no matter how much I may be dreading the workday, all of that melts away when I slowly open my daughter's bedroom door in the morning. I could have been cursing the clock twenty seconds earlier, but I'll find myself smiling and whispering in a higher octave as soon as I turn that doorknob.
Sometimes Charlotte is already awake, chattering away to her stuffed menagerie, and she'll say, "Daddy!" and point at me while I peak around the opening bedroom door. It's very cool.
What's better yet is finding her lying on her tucked-in arms with her bottom sticking up in the air. I get to rub her back and say things like, "Hey there, Pooty Butt. It's time to get up..." Watching her transform from a silent, little lump of pajamas into a smiling, dancing girl is quite a sight to behold.
Some days I know this will be the best moment of my day, but at least I had a best moment.
Link: I Get a Kick Out of You
FYI: "Pooty Butt" didn't stick as far as nicknames go - a fact both Daphne and Charlotte appreciate. I am still the one who wakes her up on schooldays, but I rub her back and call her "Princess," instead.
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