family, life, love

Objects of My Affection

These are the objects I would assemble to convey my love for my daughter:

1.  A dish of sliced apples with a glob of peanut butter.

To commemorate the time I sliced an apple, adorned it with peanut butter, grabbed some cookies and a water bottle and headed across the courtyard, where my daughter was half way up a tree.  She was approximately eight.  I had just learned that her love languages are Acts of Service and Quality Time.  So I made us a snack and climbed into the tree with her.  Afterward, as I walked back across the courtyard, she yelled, “Wow, that was an act of service, mom, and hey, it was quality time, too!  Thanks mom.”  I appreciate how she appreciated.

2.  A dish of sliced bananas with a glob of nutella.

As long as we’re on fruits and globs, this dish is a favorite tv snack, had over the years while happily watching Boy Meets World or Gilmore Girls or Olympic Figure Skating or Downton Abbey or The Voice….

3.  A belt made out of key chains.

To commemorate all of the creative, inventive, sweet, precious Christmas gifts she made me over the years while secretly holed up in her bedroom.  I love, love, love that she wanted to give me gifts.

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Holiday hot pads, Christmas gift 1999, 10 years old.

Holiday hot pads, Christmas gift 1999, 10 years old.

4.  A black t-shirt.

The one she wore while being baptized on the eve of her 21st birthday.  Mama was so, so proud.  And speaking of proud…. maybe the cords from her high school and college graduations and a textbook from grad school…..

5.  Our road trip CD, which begins with Carole King’s “Where You Lead”.

She is a lot of road trip fun – searching out the freshest, most delicious places to eat, interesting shops and the best beaches.

6.  And finally, a dove.

To signify peace.  And quiet.  I just read Momastery’s post on a Target line meltdown and I am so grateful to my quiet, compliant, reasonable child that I never had to experience that.

Here’s how it went with her:  Rolling past the cookie aisle, she grabbed a pack off the shelf.  I said, “We don’t need cookies”, and put it back.  She started to cry.  I whispered, “I’m not going to change my mind.”  She stopped crying.  End of story.  Smart, reasonable child.  Love her.

Always have, always will.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/language-of-things/

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