We were driving back from Disney where we had just celebrated her 9th birthday for a few days. I expected her to collapse in exhaustion in the car, but she was positively giddy and silly. She loves to be silly. One thing led to another…
Me – “I think I’m going to make it a goal to be a little more loving every year and a little sillier every year.”
Her – “How about a lot more loving?”
Me – “Do I need to be?”
Her – “No, you’re already like 100% loving.”
Me – “Ok, now I am definitely not that. I do get upset about things now and then and raise my voice here and there.”
Her – “You’re probably 89% loving.”
My turn to laugh
Her – “How about me? Am I 100%?”
I reflected momentarily on the noticeable increase in the last few months of sharp looks and folded arms resistance to getting advice.
Me – “You’re probably 95% loving.”
She gave me a light smack in the arm.
Me – “See. You just smacked me.”
She laughed at the irony of it.
Me – “You’re probably 97% loving.”
She liked that number. I like it, too.
Maybe if I truly act on my goal of becoming a little more loving and a little sillier each year, I’ll catch up to her, one day.
Doubt it, though.