My childhood best friend had a bridal shower on Saturday, and Ariel came with me. It wasn't really a child-friendly event (a lingerie shower), but she begged to go ("I want to be late for Miss Katie, too!"), so I called to see if it was okay and threw her in the car last-minute. She made the hour-long drive so much more enjoyable, and I kept telling her how glad I was that she was with me.
After the shower (which she spent eating a lunch of cookies), we swung by a local Taco Bell for some "real food" (kind of), then headed home.
That night, as I put her to bed, I stroked her hair softly, gazed into her eyes, and said with my most adoring mama voice, "Ariel, I'm glad you're my girl. You know that? I'm so glad you're my girl."
As I walked toward the door, Ariel scrambled to her feet and dashed to the near corner of her crib.
"I... I'm glad..." You could see her searching for how to say what she was feeling. "I'm glad I came with you to Miss Katie."
"Aww. I'm glad you came with me, too."
"And I'm glad... I'm glad I came with you to Taco Bell."
"Me, too, sweetie. I'm glad too. Goodnight."