I've been compiling a vague mental list of why parents need children, why they are a gift from God, besides the obvious of course. One reason we stodgy adults need little people in our lives is to get us in touch with the whimsical, impulsive, nonsensical side that surely everyone has, buried at some level.
My favorite memory from today is of "dancing" to and fro for an audience of one chubby cherub propped up among the pillows on our enormous sleigh bed. Leaping along the footboard with arms waving back and forth, and an arabesque thrown in for good measure, I then ran up and jumped onto the bed with a "boo," all for the smile on her formerly whimpery face and the "you're silly but very entertaining, Mommy" look in her eye. It was all I needed to make my universe complete, and to motivate still sillier exhibitions in the near future, I'm sure.
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