If I am wearing a dress, Alice will look at me and say, “Mommy, you’re a princess!”
And I will say, “Oh, Alice, you’re a princess!” And then I will ask, “What is Daddy?”
And she will say, “Daddy is a race car.”
Every time. He is a race car.
All weekend, she was in a clingy, “Mama, hold you” mood. She couldn’t say why, but she felt small and a little sad. And she wanted me.
I know David understands. Just like I know it won’t last.
I am bracing myself.
But I am also looking forward to someday telling her the story of how the first precious minutes of her life were a secret just between the two of them. How even though I still wish, sometimes, I had been in on it, I also love the thought of them together.