"No man ever wore a scarf as warm as his daughter’s arm around his neck."
It's her birthday again. My Katherine turned 8 today. And when she comes home from school, I will ask her about her day at school and then say something like, "By the way, Katherine, how many times to I have to tell you not to leave your bike in the middle of the garage."
And when she opens the door, she'll find her new bike waiting for her.
As a parent, it's amazing how the ways your children return the love you give them changes over time. Now, instead of kisses, I get "The Cheek," "The Forehead," or "The Lean,"--all delivered so I can kiss or hug her. Gone are the days of the Arrowroot Biscuit-smudged wet kiss on the lips or the run-and-fling-the-arms-around-my-neck toddler hugs. Oh, I still get those on occasion, but in this world of 8-year olds, things change, and quite unintentionally I've found a new source of those many happy returns of affection.
A Magna-Doodle.
After Christmas, on a trip to Target to return a duplicate gift to our youngest son, I walked by a corner display of Magna-Doodle Pocket, and snagged one as an afterthought, so Katherine would have something from the trip, too.
Since then, that Magna-Doodle has not left her night table. Thanks to the gods at Fisher Price, nearly every night when I come up to kiss her goodnight before going to bed, there's a message for me: a riddle, a scribble that she dares me to turn into a picture of something, a "Welcome Home Daddy" for when I get back from a trip. This morning, when she woke up, it said, "Happy Birthday, Sweetheart."
Unintentionally, and magically, it's our new version of the Arrowroot kiss.
Wryter
