Tonight, I was settled on the couch, reading Across the Puddingstone Dam to the girls. Ramona was seated at an end table, in a Ramona-sized chair, pretending the table was her desk. She was also pretending to read.
I stopped to take a breath, looked over at her and asked, "What are you reading?"
"What? Me? I'm reading 'Where's My Cup of Tea?' Remember that book, Mommy? You read that book."
Yes. Yes, I did. And of course I didn't correct my little girl's sweet misnomer. I just smiled and remembered the first essay in the book, in which Danielle reminds us that even on those days when we can't and don't make it to that cup of tea, our children will provide the cup of tea we need. When, in frustration, I want to ask the world, "Where's my cup of tea?" I hope that I'll always remember the gentle reminder in that essay, and the gentle love of my children that makes every sacrifice worthwhile.
And now, I must go. My big girls are watching "Little Women" and Beth just died. Tissues aplenty are needed.