As I buckled her into her car seat, she said, “I have white toes.”
Then, “Elise has pink toes. I have white toes.”
Oh! I get it now. Her friend Elise has painted toenails.
“Would you like me to paint your toenails pink?” I asked.
And just like that, I made her day. Actually, based on the way she showed off her pink toes and “stingers” [fingers] over the next several days, I made her week.
I couldn’t help but think just how easy it is to make her happy now. Two year olds throw fits over the most ridiculous things, but they also delight in the simplest pleasures.
Like pink toes.
Or princess band-aids.
Or a new bouncy ball from the store.
Or blowing bubbles on the front porch.
Or rediscovering a bucket of stuffed animals that have been neglected for six months.
It’s so easy now. But it won’t always be that way.
I think of the times my parents just couldn’t – or wouldn’t – do what I wanted to make me happy. I think of dance lessons we couldn’t afford and extracurricular activities they didn’t approve. I think of church camp and parties missed and rules and budgets enforced.
But then I remember hugs and lessons and support and love. And I know that they gave me everything I ever needed – and so much more. Like piano lessons and Camp Fire uniforms. Like a second pair of basketball shoes, after my first pair got stolen. Like a dress for a dance that I never got asked to.
And I know that my little girl will be just fine, even if she doesn’t get everything she wants.
Still, I’m glad I can give her pink toes.