i'm having an out-of-sorts kind of day. it began in the bleak hours of the morning with a nightmare so horrifying that it woke me, and instead of gulping in air and relief, a film of panic clung to my consciousness.
the day was fine, nice even, as mondays go: six loads of laundry cycling through the washer and dryer, the post processing of photos, a few hours of sewing, homework and games with the little people, coq au vin in the oven. and yet it's hard to shake the feeling that something, somewhere nearby, is wrong.
i am blessed. i know this. my life is a litany of good things that i neither earned nor deserve. and so i figure that i'm okay with having a day, every once in a while, where i'm strangely out of sorts.
so moving on.
my daughter is quite possibly the cleanest four year old in the history of personal cleanliness. she was the giddy recipient of bubble bath in a dora-shaped bottle, which, in case you have not heard, is the best. thing. ever. she tries to schedule bubble baths multiple times a day: i say, okay, let's clean up for lunch, and she says, yes, and then i will take a bath with my dora bubbles. i tell her that her brothers should be home soon and she says, i think i am stinky and so i need to take a bath with my dora bubbles.
i've spent so much of the past four years trying to coax her into the tub that i'm not even sure what to do with this. mostly i give in.
she may sport pruned fingers for the next seven months, but her strawberry soapy aroma is quite pleasant. and also, it renders my day just a little bit happier.
thank you, dora. thank you, elle. and thank you, God.