There aren’t too many days like this, when she’s so wound up that she doesn’t take a nap during the day. And it’s a good thing, too, because that means I don’t have a minute to myself when it’s a day like this.
At least she was in a good mood this afternoon, giggling and laughing over not remembering who I am.
“Who are you?” She genuinely wants to know.
“I’m Elaine, your daughter,” I tell her.
Her eyes open wide and she starts laughing. “You’re Elaine?”
“Yes, I say. I’m your daughter.”
“I have a daughter?” Now she’s laughing even harder.
Her laughter is contagious, and soon we’re both running to the bathroom.
I sit with her on the edge of her bed while we both try to calm down. My stomach hurts from laughing so much.
She starts to cry. She leans her head on my shoulder and says “Please make me better.” And then we cry together.