My daughter loves to sing. She is always singing something.  Most of the time, it is the usual fare like “Itsy Bitsy Spider” or “Wheels on the Bus”, etc.  But now and again she will sing her own tune, one that she makes up as she goes along.  She tends to sing about her immediate surroundings or what she is doing right then and there.  And truth be told, they aren’t exactly compelling ditties.

For example, she will sway in place and sing, “I see the kitty on the couch.  Daddy is downstairs.  Mommy has to dye her haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaair!”

Not exactly moving, or catchy for that matter.  But as Simon would say, “She makes it her own.”  And Randy without a doubt would call her “authentic”.  And lovely Paula would have tears in her eyes when she says Piper “sings from the heart.”

She is very inspired by American Idol, so it was no surprise when she grabbed her microphone last night while we were watching the show. Only this time she started singing, “Keep on moving, keep on moving, you gotta keep on moving…”  My stepdaughter and I just looked at each other.  This was quite an improvement over “I got cheerios, I got cheerios in a bowl.”   The entire time she’s singing, she rocking back and forth with one leg stretched in front of the other, sort of… well, sort of like she was dancing. 

So there we were, actually enjoying this new song as we watched her groove along for a few minutes.  And then she hit us with the grand finale.

“You gotta keep on moving, keep on moving. Go down the stairs. It’s a fire drill.”

I am now a full fledged member of the “Parents of a kid” club.  We went to Chuck E Cheese yesterday.  For some reason, even with nieces and friends with kids, I have managed to avoid this place completely until yesterday.  But with a sick husband and scattered rain showers, I finally broke down.  I really had few alternatives, believe me.  I had to get the child out of the house and into a self-engaging environment before I went completely nuts.

Now people have warned me about this place.  They told me to take Advil before going (I forgot).  They told me to eat before I go (I forgot).  They basically had me scared shit of ever going there.  And really, in truth, I have to say it wasn’t that bad.  Perhaps I am not a good judge, considering it was my salvation and last hope for sanity yesterday.  Or, maybe it was just seeing my little girl’s smile stretched from ear to ear.

Typical Piper, she had me back and forth, back and forth.  First she wanted to go on the mini carousel.  So I waited for it to stop and all the kids to get off (there are only three horses to sit on).  I put her on, put in the token… it starts up - “I want to get off!”

Two minutes later, she is running back over to the carousel, begging to go on.  We wait for it to stop, the kids to get off, I put her on, plop the token in, it starts going around, she wants to get off.

We went through this whole routine three times before I finally realized what was going on.  She was being typical Piper all right, but the sweet and lovely typical Piper.  All she wanted was to ride around in circles with the other kids.  Once she realized she was the only one going around, she was no longer interested.  So after I figured this out, I quickly plopped her on a horse when no one was looking (while still spinning) and then quickly slapped in a token the minute it ended, thus trapping the other poor souls for another spin.  She grinned and grinned and giggled her head off. 

The other two were ready to leave, but I convinced them to go another round again just so I could watch that smile a little while longer.  I could have stayed there all day, shoving in the remaining thirty-five tokens one after another. But alas, the other kids got bored and left.  Rotten spoiled kids, ruining my baby’s fun.

Anyway, I have to say that Chuck E Cheese isn’t as cheesy as I thought it would be. We’ll be back again.  Mostly because no one warned that the games were only one token each and now I have a shitload of them left. Of all the things I was warned about, no one told me that it was way cheaper than Dave & Busters. Just like no one told me how quick they are to clear you table and throw away your half eaten pizza!  Or that hand sanitizer is an absolute must!

But now that I am a Chuck E Cheese veteran, I will be more prepared next time.  Most of all, I won’t forget my camera and miss capturing that incredible smile!

My child can’t count.  I didn’t worry about this much when she was two.  But now she is two and a half, yet she still can’t count.  She proudly goes, “One, two, seven, nine, ten!”

This is actually an improvement though.  Before, she used to throw letters in with the numbers, “One, two, four, g, p, x - GO!”  At least now she recognizes the difference.

At times it gives me pause to worry, especially when all the other two year olds are counting as high as fifteen, sometimes twenty.  But most often, I try not to get too worked up.  All in due time.  After all, she is still just a babe.  I also remind myself that I have managed to fare well in life, even though I am a complete math moron.

Then the other day during lunch time, she took her napkin and gingerly folded it in half, matching the two points up perfectly.  Then she grasped the other two end points and holding it up high, she said, “Look mommy, I make a triangle napkin for you!”

That is when I had to tell myself, “See? She’s fine! She’s more than fine, she’s smart. She can make triangles for Pete’s sake!”

It’s all relative in the end, right? Fuck the numbers, so she’ll never be an accountant.  I can live with that.

Jen of One Plus Two recently wrote a wonderful post about mourning the magic. The magic and joy our toddlers see and feel within the world every day. Here is a snippet of the post which you must go read (in my typical fashion I never got my shit together to nominate it for a perfect post award).

I lost this magic, this utter precocious appreciation for every single color and every single thing. Rampant wild joyous magic. It’s this loss I mourn the most. And I thank all that is holy that I have been graced with a daughter who is kind enough to show me the way back. Back to the magic, back to myself.

I cried when I read this post. I still think about the words she wrote all the time, especially when I watch my daughter play in her magical world. I too have lost the magic. Yet like Jen, I have my untainted, pure toddler to bring it back to me in golden snippets that never fail to pleasantly surprise me. With her absolute excitement, her never ending awe and her openness to receive and give to everyone and everything.

The way she interacts with all the inanimate objects around her brings me back. When I was little, the whole world was alive. I remember taking great pains to rotate the chairs I would sit on. To me, they all had feelings and hearts, so I tried my best to sit on them all evenly, lest one of them think I liked another one more. I see this personification emerging in my daughter stronger and stronger everyday. And it fills my heart to the point of exploding.

Her world is alive. There are friends and playmates in every direction, appearing in a blink of an eye. True, with it comes some foes like the scary monsters that lurk in the shadows. But even those can suddenly become a giggle partner when exposed by the light.

Every day there seems to be a new adventure with a new pal. She is a caring soul, my daughter. She delights in making others happy and making sure they are well tended to in every way. And that includes our new trash can.

When Piper saw that sticker on the front of the new trash can, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Pointing at the photo, she exclaimed in pure and absolute excitement, “Ooooooh, loooooooooooook! Trash can, that’s you! That’s you! That’s your picture right there!”

Her face, her voice, her excitement and joy. Over a trash can. Over a picture of a trash can.

And just like that. {Poof}  My heart melts all over the kitchen floor. With every object she brings to life, I become more alive. Like magic.