Miss America

Emmy still hates to take a bath. Hates. It. I have started singing to her when we get her in the tub to try and distract her, if nothing else, she might think, "man, I really hope I got Daddy's musical talents instead of That Woman's". (Sometimes, I am certain she refers to me as That Woman--That Woman that cuts her nails, That Woman that makes her sleep in her crib, That Woman that gives her baths, That Woman that puts her in the car all the time... ) Today when she was getting her bath, I sang the Miss America song to her and told her the story of her Papa singing it me when I was a kid. Every morning, he was sitting at the kitchen table facing towards the hallway, reading his paper, and would sing, "there she is, Miss America" when I walked down the hall to get my morning coke. I am sure that I was such a little shit that I actually snarled at that but when I think of it now, it is one of my most special and treasured memories. I hope that one day, Emmy remembers goofy and silly things that John and I do to her, and I hope she does them for her little princess and I hope that she tells her that she knows that even though Daddy and Mama were goofy sometimes, never once did she doubt that we loved her, just like me now.