Giving her a new journal and watching her sincere excitement. Watching her lie on her bed (a couch at the end of OUR bed) writing about her day with a pencil. As an 8 year old.
Listening to her still-little-girl high pitched voice. Loving the sound of it. And knowing it won’t last much longer and missing its sound already.
And this morning, watching the story of the Shelf Elf unfold….
She has a friend whose mother bought her a “Shelf Elf” — a toy elf that is being advertised on TV as an elf that will “move” itself during the night. Miffy was incredibly excited last year when she found an almost 50 year toy elf — that was virtually identical to the ones being sold on TV as Shelf Elves — in Bunky’s (my wife’s) Christmas box. So, the Elf was brought out and placed on a shelf by Miff. To her delight and surprise, the Elf “moved” every night. She was giddy.
This year her eight year old brain started to kick in with the inevetible logic. She asked if the Elf really “moved” by itself. Bad move by us: we told her the truth, that it did not. She was crestfallen. That was two days ago.
Fast forward to this morning. She came to the breakfast table and lo and behold — there was the Shelf Elf sitting in her chair. “Look, look!!!” she exclaimed. And then pointedly at her mom, “Did you move him there?”
“No” my wife swore solemnly. “I absolutely did not.” Her nose seemed to grow like the Shelf Elf’s.
Grace beamed. Proudly holding the Elf in her lap as she ate her microwave pancakes before going to school.
That old Elf really is magic.