Peek, Puh-ple, PJs

When we woke, it was still dark. Greyish light struggling to break through the blinds. We were warm, but I could feel the frigid outdoors, even under the heavy cloud of downy blankets ... sweaty little feet leaving a damp imprint on my t-shirt. We laid there for a few minutes. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I hardly dared breathe. 

Lazily, quietly, we made our way down the stairs. She thumped down on the carpet to color, still in a sleepy daze. The back door eeked as I heaved it open. Our spaniels' nails clacked across the hardwood, as they raced, barreling out into the frost. Maile's head snapped up: "Ohhh, Teh-Bear. Ohhh, Ches-che," she said with love, shaking the sleep from the dark hair falling over her eyes. 

Quickly, I checked the weather. Snow. Cold. "Today's going to be a pajama day!" I declared aloud, to no one in particular. Maile didn't so much as look at me. She was deep in artistic thought, creating a two-toned Minnie masterpiece. Mauvelous, royal purple, mauvelous, royal purple. Deftly, she alternated hues every few seconds. "Peek, puh-ple, peek, puh-ple."

It was almost perfect.

Giggles, laps around the ground floor of our home as we yelled "Ruuuun! Ruuuun!" Chocolate-chip eating, This Little Piggy wiggling, delicious nap-taking. Laugh-out-loud funny requests, koala care-taking, snow watching, game inventing, three-syllable word saying.

Time well spent.

Yesterdays are like therapy to me. Dreamy, fruitful, curing. I need to make them happen more often. To be excited to make these days for our only child. Days of imagination, days of dance. Pajama days.