Over the last few months, I've been getting up early to get some quality, fresh-brain writing in before the kids get up and all hell breaks loose. (Okay, it's not really that bad.) Generally, I'm up between six and 6:30, Tanya's already gone to the gym, and the girls are asleep for at least another hour. This morning, Ella made me happy.
I was sitting on the couch, working on a book proposal (more on that at a later date...I like intrigue), when Ella appeared at the top of the stairs. She was quiet—almost reverently so—and had a blanket wrapped around her. I said hi and waved her down to sit next to me. She obliged.
We sat on the couch together, me tapping away at my laptop and Ella cuddled under her blanket. I felt her watching me for a few seconds. She got up. "I'm going to write, too, Daddy," she said, and fetched her fuzzy pink journal. Apparently, the ability to write for young girls is directly proportional to how cute the journal is.
She scratched away, and I returned to my work, both of us silent. She read me some of what she'd written—more about our beloved, late dog, Scooby Doo. "It's really good. I'll read it to you and you can tell me if you think it's really good. Okay, Daddy?"
I smiled and nodded, the safe course of action when asked a loaded question by 9-year-old, I've learned.
The best thing about that ten minute span was that we were both able to do what we enjoyed without being disturbed or bothered. The second best thing? That we did it together.
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