I walked into Chloe’s room like any other morning.
I typically hear one of the following greetings, appropriate from a two year old.
- “Good morning Mommy!”
- “Can you read this book?”
- “Can I have some milk…please…beep beep warm?” (Translation—can you microwave my milk?)
This morning, I didn’t hear any of her regular greetings. Instead, her gaze went straight to the tea dribble staining my freshly laundered (who am I kidding, several days soiled shirt).
“Can you walk your feet to my crib?”
Gulp. I was surprisingly nervous to be summoned by a baby so early in the morning given the location I was asked to report involved a crib.
Her stare never left the tea mark as I slunk toward the “Godbaby”.
She looked me straight in the eye. The other one of course impeded by the bars.
“Are you need a bib?”
