Special Days.

Well, for all my fussin' and complainin', I would just like to go on record as saying:

Four is mucho better than three.

(Now, someone, please! Hurry! Knock on wood.)

My plan for this summer consisted of this: Send Remi to camp every day, all week. For eight weeks. Never look back. And never give her the chance to talk me out of it. That was the plan.

I never, ever, stick with the plan.

How could I? She went to camp for two weeks and then told me that she just "wanted to hang out" with me for a while. So that's what we did last week, we hung out. Oh sure, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday weren't that fun because we had Rocco with us and that kid can really bring down a girls outing, what with all his "ball" and "toot" and "poopoo stinky" stuff he goes on and on about.

But Tuesday and Thursday? That was all about us.

We took in a movie. Shared a popcorn and Dr. Pepper. Got pedicures. Ate fresh guacamole. And topped off the day with a rainbow snow cone. (Rainbow for her, I'm a Bahama Mama myself.) And what a difference a little hang time will do. I found that when you give a four year old girl your undivided attention - and you throw in a pedicure for good measure - she will tell you anything.

I know how much she adores her daddy. But I also know that she is "four years old now and daddy needs to change. his. attitude."

I know she secretly wants Gabriel to be her boyfriend.

I know she loves pink nail polish but when she is "old as momma" she wants red.

I know she loves Target but only if we are shopping for her.

I know that she loves her church and her friend Victoria.

I know that when I leave her with Nonie and Poppy that Poppy is the only one who spanks. Nonie just tells her "tell your momma I spanked you so she won't get mad at Nonie, okay?"

Two and three was incredibly hard for me with Remi. I'm not imagining four is going to be a cake-walk, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel, I can almost see it. And being with her these last two weeks has been special; a real mother/daughter kind of special.

I haven't lost my cool or overreacted (okay, maybe once or twice). I haven't worked up a sweat or downed Rapid Release Tylenol. I've just enjoyed her.

And when you enjoy someone - they enjoy you back.

Remi: Momma, you're my best friend.
Me: And you're mine, too, Remi Hope.
Remi: Remember that. Even if I'm not saying that tomorrow.

Okay, I will.