Annie is a dyed-in-the-wool Daddy’s Girl (as I’ve mentioned several times), but right before her second birthday she started to warm up to me. She still calls for Mike during the occasional middle-of-the-night wake up (oh I am so heartbroken, she said sarcastically), but she has things she reliably goes to me for, and it’s really nice. I like feeling useful and needed and wanted by her.
She comes to me when she wants to read books (“do voices, mama!”), laugh (“give Annie tickles!”), or play pretend (“sing princess songs!”). I like that she can direct our play and activities because being the cruise director is tiring sometimes. A few weeks ago we were playing some kind of jumping/dancing game, and she fell down onto her knees, hard. She instantly got big tears in her eyes and reached for me. I was slightly surprised because up until this point Mike had a monopoly on the “comforting when hurt” market.
I pulled her into my lap and comforted her. She started to get squirmy and I just knew she was going to call for Mike. Before I even knew I was speaking, I said, “Annie, do you want Mama to kiss it and make it better?”
She stopped sobbing, considering this. “Yeah, kiss make better,” and then she lifted her knee so I could kiss it.
I put my lips on her leg and kissed it several times. “There, does that feel better?” I asked her.
“Yeah. Thank you, Mama,” then she got up and grabbed a book off the shelf.
Since then, every time she gets hurt she asks me to “Kiss make better.” I am kissing boo-boos and owies all day — even when Mike is around. Yesterday, Annie hit her head and after I kissed the spot, Mike said to her, “Can I kiss it, Annie?” She refused and when he asked why, Annie said, “Mama kisses magic.” I don’t even know when she learned that word but who cares. My kisses are magic. That is going on my resume.