Your Mom is a Ninja

Dear Elle,

I know you're too young to appreciate this now, but... Your Mom is a Ninja.

Yesterday, you were an absolute dream to be out and about with. You got up and got dressed all by yourself. It didn't matter to me that you just wore the same shirt you played in the day before, that you put your shoes on the wrong feet. Your effort was noticed and appreciated.

We made it to the train station in time to see the big train come in. You didn't cry because we opted to stand inside instead of outside.

You kindly asked to go to the park after your father and I had our large morning coffees, and let us push you in the swing for a long time, giving the caffeine time to circulate through our bodies.

Daddy and I looked at each other lovingly and said, "Isn't life with her wonderful?"

We played in the drinking fountain, got through a full shopping trip that you actually helped with, with no temper tantrum, and we even made a drama-free visit to the toy store after.

You were not happy to leave, so I told you that you had been so wonderful and such a good girl all day that I would give you a little present in the car. You happily ran out of the store, held my hand in the parking lot, and were perfectly content that your "present" was just a $.79 mini crayon and paint set and a $1 container of silly putty.

Bedtime was tough, but you did use the potty all by yourself... four times, and talked out all concerns with me, like how you desperately needed to find one particular stuffed toy, and why 3 crayons were needed for your journal... even though they were all the same basic shade of pink. We discussed the differences between Earth and the moon, and you kissed your toes goodnight... three times.

Even though I patiently waited it out, I have to admit that I ended the night with an "I just want to die..." sigh of exhaustion, as you finally fell asleep at 11pm.

I crocheted some more of your "E" pillow, my life ever-revolving around the giant E that is Ellie.

I woke up with less patience than usual. You were still asleep, and I wasn't quite ready to begin the morning battle, so I made up your lunch in your new Frozen lunch box and put your swimsuit and water shoes in your backpack. I made you a "bucket breakfast" to take in the car, and tucked your favorite stuffed dog, Banjo, in the front pocket of your bag.

This left me 5 minutes to get you ready and out the door... after Daddy reminded me that, "it's really important that I get to work early this morning."

I crept into your room like a ninja, stepping over the floorboards that had the most tendency to creak. I silently sat at the end of your bed and, before you woke up, I dressed you in your sandals and shorts. I left you in the pajama shirt I had put you in last night after your bath.

And when you woke up... and I said, "Look! You're all dressed!" and you screamed in horror at having missed at least 78 opportunities to stall our out-the-door progress, and cried that you didn't want to "wear those shoes," it was all too late. Much too late.

To prevent you from taking off your shoes, I told you, in the happiest sing-songy voice, "What?! But!! Those are magic shoes! As soon as your feet hit the floor, you'll start dancing!" You're too smart for that kind of crap, but it made you laugh and forget about the fact that I had completely prepped you for day care before you had one single minute to think about it and plan an escape.

I carried you out the door, put you in the car, got my 3 rounds of hugs and kisses, set you up with your bucket breakfast, and happily waved goodbye as you drove away.

Yep! Your mom is a ninja. I'm sure that, this afternoon, you'll find some way to anticipate and sabotage my ninja skills, but for now... I win.

I love you dearly, love this experience, love finding creative ways to retain my sanity, and wouldn't trade smart, sassy you for anything in this whole wide world.

Bring on the next challenge!

Love,
Mommy Pop

P.S. I have no idea why you've started calling me Mommy Pop, but it's kind of adorable.