Los Reyes han llegado

Thank goodness that someone remembered, because I forgot. An early morning phone call from M. reminding me to set out the gifts from the "wise men" was the salvation.

Of course, it is a little strange being the keeper of a tradition that is not one's own. Very strange indeed. But Isabella was so happy, and it was a sneaky ploy to get her out of bed and dressed in time for me to get her to school and to not be late for my class. Most mornings she is still fast asleep when I have to leave and even the kisses planted firmly on her cheeks and forehead are not enough to stir her from slumber.

That's how I tried this morning, too. Curling around her and kissing her peach-fuzz face, over and over. No reaction, not even a smile. She is so beautiful when she lays sleeping, all of the lively chatter momentarily suspended, her mouth in a peaceful curve.

"Hey, maybe I was extra good, that's why the Reyes brought me two toys!"... If goodness were the only criiteria, there would have been a thousand. I haven't met a sweeter more genuinely good person, and that is not just because she is my daughter. She has defects, of course, like talking incessantly, and interrupting to be heard over other people's conversations because what she needs to say is so urgent, usually to comment on the world around her.

Ah. some days I get it right:)

Why is there only one word for love when it means so many different things?