Tag: happiness

Joy’s “Good Side”

Joy loves kindergarten. In the morning, as we get ready for the bus, making lunch and packing her backpack, Joy gets visibly excited. And during the week, we get many pictures from her teachers at school. Joy is clearly having a blast at school and learning so much. But she is super tired when she gets off the bus at 4:40. She often wants an afterschool snack and play time or a bike ride. And we do dinner early because by 7 pm, she is ready to go to bed.

Joy will come into the kitchen, where I’m often reading or working, turn off the kitchen and dining room lights, and then gesture to me (or Mom) with her hand. We don’t need words to understand her. She is ready.

I put down my book or close the laptop, make a cup of ice water, and follow Joy down the hall. Joy brushes her teeth (with some assistance) and we change into pajamas. She hops into bed, and I give her the water. She takes two or three sips and lies down, pulling the covers up to her chin. I dim the lights.

I lie down on Joy’s left, letting Joy rest her head on my right arm. She puts her right hand in mine, and she rolls her head back and forth until she’s comfortable. She turns to me and gets as close as possible, snuggling and putting her leg on my leg. She believes that this snuggle hold is rock solid, that there is no way I can escape. And of course I don’t want to escape. I live for this.

When she is held, Joy often falls asleep within minutes. And the smell of her hair can make me sleepy as well. I might nap for thirty minutes or so like this. Then, if I’m careful and gentle, I can extract myself from her embrace. If she starts to wake up and I’m not in the snuggle position, she will whine for a few seconds until I resume the snuggle hold. Soon, though, she is back in deep sleep.

So Joy almost always places her head on my right arm. But yesterday, she lay down in my spot. So I climbed over her and placed her head on my left arm. And I looked at her as she snuggled into me. And I noticed how really beautiful her eyelashes are. And those cheeks. And so I wondered if this change in perspective had something to do with me rediscovering Joy’s beautiful features.

It was odd. I mean, Joy’s face is symmetrical. Her eyelashes are mostly identical on each side. Cheeks too. Her smile is joyous and wonderful from every angle. Her hair is soft and shiny. (However, there is some research that demonstrates that the left side of the face shows more emotional expression. The left side is often considered our “good side.”)

So I’ve decided to look at her from different angles. Every day. I want to commit to memory as much as I can about what Joy is like at age five. And six. And seven. And since my memory is getting slippery, I want to take more photos and videos.

And someone needs to take pictures of her mom and me. Because someday, she might ask, “Who loved me the most in the world?”

“Sit”

At 7 a.m., the duvet is thrown off my body. I open one eye to find the duvet. I reach down and pull it back up to my chin.

“Be a good girl, Joy,” I mumble to the toddler standing next to me.

Joy grabs the corner of the duvet and pulls it down to my knees.

“Okay, Joy,” I say. “I’m up.” I yawn. “Maybe once in a while you can pull the covers off Mommy.”

Joy takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen.

We agree to have Cheerios for breakfast, and chocolate milk to drink. And a bagel with lots of cream cheese and jelly. I make a cup of pour-over coffee.

Joy gives me a kiss that leaves a smear of cream cheese on my cheek.

“Sit,” she says. This is Joy’s latest word, and it’s perfect. I understand her completely.

“Sit?” I ask in feigned ignorance.

“Sit.”

So I sit next to her at the kitchen table. And she makes funny faces and hilarious hand gestures. I laugh.

Later, downstairs, Joy climbs on the stationary bike.

“Sit,” she says to me, pointing to the rowing machine.

So I sit on the rower and watch her try to reach the pedals on the bike. (Never gonna happen.) She gets off the bike and taps me on the shoulder as I work the rowing machine.

“Sit,” she says, pointing to the bike. Joy takes the rowing machine. I hop on the bike. Joy is very adept at the rowing machine.

Then she gets down on the carpet. She slaps the floor with the palm of her hand.

“Sit.”

I sit next to her and she immediately pushes me onto my back.

She leans over and gives me a kiss on the lips and then a peck on each eyelid.

Throughout the day, Joy will find a moment to take my hand, look up at me, and say, “Sit.”

To be honest, I do a lot of sitting already. My job is sitting at a laptop and moving words around.

But to Joy, sitting is daddy-daughter time. It has nothing to do with work.

To Joy, sit means “close the laptop and hold me on your lap instead.” Sit means “sit next to me, Daddy, and help me with blocks.” Sit means “spend time with me, watch me splash in the tub.” Sit means “see what I can do, Daddy.” Sit means “stay home a while longer.” Sit means “I love you.”

So, sit is my favorite word. For now.

Because, dear daughter, there are more words on the way, like dancing, skating, bowling, musicals, movies, swimming, picnics, and a hundred others.