Ella Gave Me a Sticker

Yesterday morning, Ella was up early, excited that it was Water Day at summer camp, which is just a summmer extension of the school year at the pre-school she's been attending since before she was even able to walk.  She was already dressed in her bathing suit, and I was happily giving her "Anna braids" (I do love them) at the kitchen island when she started flipping through her new Fairies coloring/sticker book.  She had earned this book the previous day by helping her teacher clean up the classroom and was pretty pleased with herself.

Ella was in a fabulous mood.  She flipped her way to the sticker page and asked me, "which sticker do you want, Mommy?"

I still hadn't showered or done much of anything to prepare for my workday, and I had a screaming headache.  I really didn't have much time and wanted to defer the sticker selection to her but managed to focus on the page full of pastel-colored fairies, hearts and butterflies and found a blue fairy that I "liked."

"This one," I said, putting my finger on that blue fairie.

"This one?" she asked, pointing at the same one.

"Yes," I answered.

"Maybe you should have a heart sticker so you know I love you," she suggested.

This was so sweet, and I wasn't married to that blue fairie sticker; so I told her, "Oh, that's so nice, Ellie.  You pick one for me.  But don't give it to me now.  I need to go shower, so give it to me after my shower."

She smiled, fully understanding the "why" of that plan and likely proud of herself for having suggested I take the heart sticker.

Ten or so minutes later, I was out of the shower and dressed and brushing my hair when Ella entered my bathroom.

"Here's your sticker, Mommy," she said, handing me my sticker.  It wasn't the blue fairy one that I had chosen, nor was it a heart.  It was a butterfly that, looking closely at it, had four hearts, one on each wing.

Anyway, I thanked her for it and placed it on my shirt, over my heart.

My Butterfly Sticker & My Heart

I wore that sticker all day.  Some people asked or said something about it, but most didn't, as if it were perfectly normal for an adult to be wearing a sticker all day at her workplace.

I ended up taking a later train home.  When I got home, both Leatherkids were in bed.  Cal was already asleep; but Ella was lying in bed wide awake.  So I paid her a visit and talked with her for a bit about her day.  Talking to Ella about her day rarely gives me any insights into her actual day and oftentimes involves answering a lot of "why" questions and surviving her long sentences about random thoughts that hadn't been fully baked when she started talking about them.  Last night was no different.

We talked for 10 minutes or so before I was telling her that it was past her bedtime and she really needed to go to sleep.  We exchanged kisses and a hug.  I told her that I loved her and "to have good dreams."  As I pulled away from her, I saw her eyes fixate on the part of my shirt covering my heart.  She smiled.  The sticker she had given me in the morning was still there.

"I wore it ALL DAY, Ellie," I told her as I looked at her with her big, beautiful, toothless smile.

And we said nothing more than the signed "I love yous" and blown kisses we exchanged as I left her to fall asleep and start having those good dreams I told her to have.