A Snippet

We’re driving down the highway after a long day spent cleaning out our old residence. It’s just Lu and I, myself covered in splotches of floor cleaner and smudges of dirt dotting my forehead. I can see Lucy in the rearview mirror, sucking her thumb and twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Her eyes are sleepy. She’s just come from her Aunt Mikayla and Uncle Heath’s house, where she napped through our cleaning marathon. In an attempt to get her into the car quickly, I just scooped her out of the make-shift bed and into her carseat, sans pants or shoes. The 30 minute drive to our new home is boring for her, I can tell.

I turn on the radio and start checking the dial for anything but a commerical for hair removal surgery (seriously, are people in Kansas City that hairy?). I turn to a mix station and hear a familiar beat. I crank up the volume and start bopping around in my seat. George Michael’s voice booms through the speakers, telling me that I gotta have faith. I peek in my rearview mirror and see Lu’s face light up. She starts bouncing around to the beat. We both are singing along.

“I gotta have faithafaithafaith-ahhhh!”

This is why I love my kid. She’s unequivocally the most awesome person in the world.