Perfect, perfect night with Rachel

Tonight was possibly the best night I have EVER spent with my daughter.

I picked her up from school and she ran up to me twice and jumped into my arms. I had been feeling a bit neglected because during the time Big Rachel (i.e., Auntie Rachel, my friend from Kenya) had been visiting, I spent most of my time with her and very little time with my daughter. Result: Drew took Rachel to the park and the children's museum while Rachel and I ran around shopping, drinking and generally having a good time being gals together. So, by this morning, when I told Little Rachel I loved her and she didn't say I love you back, I was a little hurt. ("It's nice to say 'I love you' back when people tell you 'I love you,'" Drew told her gently, to no avail).

But all was OK after school. We headed to Powell's to pick up a cookbook, and while I was in the barbecue section I noticed there were two copies of my book on the shelf. "See this book?" I told Rachel. "Mommy wrote this book! See the picture on the back? That's MOMMY!"

"Can you put MY picture in this book?" she replied. I hugged her and thought, next time, honey.

Then she said, completely out of the blue: "I'm so happy to see you!" and I hugged her on the spot. I didn't want to let her go.

We got into the car where she astonished me by BUCKLING HERSELF INTO HER CAR SEAT ALL BY HERSELF. Then we headed home and when she asked to watch a "movie," (old Sesame Street episodes on DVD that Tia Daniella sent us), I gently told her that those were for special occasions. "If we eat dinner quickly, we can take a walk!" I said, and the bribe worked. Rachel ate a good dinner of several pieces of chicken and baby food carrots, then asked for a treat "because I had a good dinner." So I handed her two graham crackers and off we set on a walk through the neighborhood.

Portland really is lovely this time of year. The weather tonight was perfect -- mid-70s -- and every house looked gorgeous. I've started asking Rachel if she likes the houses we pass and the landscaping. She always says yes. Tonight she asked me if I like a certain house and I said no.

"Why?" she asked.
"It's too dark," I answered.
"Houses can be any color," she observed.

Then she reminded me of our trip to New York: "Remember yesterday when we went to New York on the airplane and I curled up in your lap and I snuggled and I sniffed you?" she asked, chuckling.

We talked about berry-picking, and I asked her if she wanted to pick strawberries and blackberries and blueberries with Mommy and Daddy. She said yes. I asked if she liked Mommy's strawberry bread, and she said yes again.

"Next time, can you not put pecans in it?" she asked politely. "Because I don't like pecans."

"Um, OK, Rachel," I replied, astonished. "No more pecans in the strawberry bread."

On the way home we stopped at a little playground three blocks away from our house. "Rachel, we only have a little time before we do Mommy books," I told her. "I don't want you to fuss when I say we have to go home."

"I won't fuss," she said. "I promise."

"Five minutes, Rachel," I warned her when she was going down the slide. "I won't fuss when we have to go home," she said. And, miracle of miracles -- she didn't! In fact, SHE was the one who asked to go home.

When she started whining a little that she didn't want to brush her teeth and wash her face, I told her to please not start fussing. "I didn't cry when we left the playground!" she reminded me cheerfully, and I thanked her. Then she washed her hands, I washed her face and brushed her teeth, we got into pajamas, I read two short books and sang three songs, and she was ready for bed.

As I was tucking her in she said, "thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" I asked.

"For tucking me in tight," she said.

"Thank you for taking a walk with me," I replied.

"Thank you!" she said again, and I turned out the light and closed the door.

Oh, if every night could be this perfect....