I recently crept into my daughters’ room, long after they had fallen asleep, to put away some of their clean clothes.
As I lightly tiptoed through the room, like a super secret Julia Roberts spy agent (you know, if agents specialized in fresh scented laundry instead of boring international con jobs), I suddenly heard a little voice in the darkness.
“I want a pink bed,” says 2 year-old Summer.
“Me too. I want a pink bed too,” chimes in 4 1/2 year-old Dylan.
Seriously? Were they just pretending to sleep so they could catch me off guard when I’m terribly weak from folding laundry and watching too many episodes of The Millionaire Matchmaker?
Despite my desperate yearnings to get back to Bravo and those lonely millionaires (especially the “celebrity clients” whom I absolutely swear no one has ever heard of), I am quick to promise nothing.
“Girls, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“We want pink beds!!”
“Good night ladies. I love you.”
And then just today, Dylan communicated her desire for a new car.
A pink one.
And if she couldn’t have a new pink car, she’d settle for painting our Jeep pink.
“Can we do that? Can we paint our car pink?” she asks so enthusiastically that I can’t bear to stomp on her passion.
“Maybe. We’ll talk to your daddy about it when he gets home.” Let Rick ruin her dreams.
“I love pink. I want to be pink. That’s why I painted my hands pink,” she says.
Oh yes, I remember.
You know, it’s amazing what a kid can accomplish while her mom is busy sending a couple quick emails.