Maia goes to daycare at a friend's house, where she and two of her best friends wind themselves up all day until all three are full of baby talk, laughing at farts, and the whole Princess phenomenon. The mom, whom I'll call Amanda, and I are pretty much on the same wavelength as far as parenting is concerned, and get along well, and I think we're both a little perplexed by the fact that when our children are together, something odd happens that's bigger than the three of them. Bigger than all of us.
I've come to call Thursday our Triple Witching day. Maia has preschool, daycare and dance class on that day, and is often a complete and utter bear by the end of it. I do my part by not having her leotard and tights and ballet shoes and tap shoes ready to go in the morning. I'm sure if I found it all on Wednesday night, or even Tuesday and then washed it on the Wednesday, Thursdays would still end in a ferociously exhausted early bedtime. This last week, I was proud of myself for remembering that that the black leotard and pink tights were in the pile of dirty clothes in my bedroom, and I dug them out with seconds to spare Thursday morning.
But once the light is out, and Maia and I are lying quietly together, sometimes we have conversations where all her silliness and wrangling falls away, and she sounds so grown up, and we talk about big important things in gentle and comfortable ways that I will always remember. The best part these talks is that they are often conducted in whispers -- not because we are conspiring, but because it is the easiest way to talk at dusk.
Last night, on the eve of the week, we had such a conversation. We cuddled together as we spoke.
"What's that, Bug?"
"Um. Do you know doze days when I have preschool and I go to Amanda's and I have dance class?"
"Yes. Yes, I do. Those are called Thursdays. Your Triple Witching Day."
"Yah. Well. Um. Da last time I had one of doze days? When I was at Amanda's and it was time to get ready for dance class? She opened da bag with my shoes and my leotahd and my tights in it and you know what?"
"You diddent put my leotahd in my bag. You put your undah-weah in my bag. Izzent dat funny?"
"Um. Wait. My underwear?"
"Yah! You thought your undah-weah was my leotahd. It was silly. Silly Mama. I love you, Mama. Good night."