Snickerdoodles

My daughter seems happy lately.

It is such a rare and fragile thing. Like a delicate butterfly that suddenly lands on your hand. You just want to freeze time, stay still, and not risk a sudden, stupid movement that will cause the beautiful creature to fly away.

I just came home from grocery shopping and found my normally mercurial, moody tween beaming from ear to ear. She proudly declared that she had made snickerdoodles from scratch while I was gone. When I asked what had possessed her, she said, "Well, you told me once that a great way to show love is to bake. So..."

I'm hiding in the bathroom right now, crying a little, as I type this.

What a privilege it is, being her mother.