I Scream. You Scream.

A Piper is observant. She goes through the day like Yoda sprinkling her wisdom.

After a nature walk and scavenger hunt this afternoon, we stopped for ice cream. Piper slurped up her melting cup and turned her attention to my cone.

“Can I have a bite of your cone, Mommy?”

I had been licking down the chocolate chip ice cream to the perfect cone bite. You know the one. I handed it over. Piper happily crunched the cake cone. She watched me get the next bite ready.

“Here. You can have my cup,” Piper volunteered. “I’ll finish your cone.”

I looked at the melted vanilla mess.

“It tastes better when you share,” Piper assured me. It didn’t. But watching her on a summer day eating ice cream may have been worth it.

After ice cream, Piper went swimming. Then she came home to a bath and dinner. While she was soaking the chlorine out, I leaned over the tub and Piper traced my face with her pruned fingers. “You know how come I know you’re my mom?” she asked.

“Because I’m bathing you and making your favorite ravioli for dinner?” I guessed.

“No. You have those lines on your face and those dark things under your eyes. All moms have those. That’s how I know you’re mine.”

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