Role Reversal
As I type this, I can hear Sunny in her bedroom putting her baby doll down for a nap.
It’s hard for me to be annoyed that it is she that is supposed to be napping when she’s demonstrating such sweet, older sisterly behavior.
You see, as the count down to the The Sesame Seed’s arrival becomes ever imminent, I’ve been clinging to my first born to help distract from the anxiety of waiting.
Which means I’ve become a total pushover.
She demands milk at bed time? A dairy-stained pillow I must launder in the morning. She wants a popsicle? Frozen treats are handed over. She asks to sleep with mommy? A snuggle fest is had.
The other day, while indulging her requests for an afternoon slumber party, I gave up my efforts to sing and coax her to sleep with back rubs and hair play, and decided that my best bet might be to roll away from her and feign sleep myself.
After about 60 seconds of having my back turned toward her, Sunny shuffled across the expanse of the Cal King’s landscape and pressed her toddler body against my back.
She then began stroking my arm and hair, whispering barely audible caresses.
She was soothing mommy to sleep.
I lay, eyes pressed shut, soaking in this role reversal. This learned behavior of tenderness and care.
To feel your child reciprocate the love and sweetness that you bestow upon her is a truly inspired and overwhelming experience.
I noted that among her hushed mutterings, the phrase, “You’re my precious” was repeated with some frequency.
Ah, to be soothed by a little baby Gollum.
It took a great deal of control to not break my pretend sleep and giggle at the creepiness of this comparison, but the seriousness and depth of her affection kept my stirrings contained.
I later relayed the story to James, and asked why ‘precious’ was such a prevalent term in her vocabulary. Apparently, that is the phrase James uses when putting her to bed at night. He tells her nightly that she is his precious first born and that nothing will change that, not even the Sesame Seed’s arrival.
So in 12 years, when we share the magic of the Lord of the Rings with our children, I’ll be able to tell my teenager that she once reminded me of one of the story’s most deranged characters.
She’ll be thrilled. I’m sure.
