"Mom!... Watch me!"
I sweep the crumbs into my hand, toss them in the sink in a quick pass towards the washing machine. I glance into the living room where The Middle is grinning and spinning herself into a happy mess.
The Little follows suit and it becomes a somewhat dangerous dizzying game of avoid-the-imminent-crash. "I will... just a second... I'm watching babe..." I rotate laundry. "... good job!"
"No. Mom. Watch."
I stop at her tone. The one that lays bare that she's not fooled. She is standing still, smile suspended, waiting for eye contact.
And it hurts. This realization that again I've been too busy to adore her being little, her growing up.
There is more than dirty laundry and stacked dishes and sticky floors that won't always be here.
Why do I forget these spinning princesses won't last forever? Why do I forget the importance of the gift of full attention?
I commit again that I won't set the example love-debt. I stop. I make eye contact. I kneel down.
I smile into all this temporary glory especially for me. "I'm watching."
Her face lights and there is always grace to begin again.