PSYCHE'S PRAYER

Last night, Psyche wanted to keep me company in my room while Paolo was pulling OT at work. She said she'd sleep beside me so I wouldn't be alone... and that her Papa can just sleep on her bed. So as she lay down beside me (on her "Papa's side" of the bed), I told her to pray as I listened quietly.

This is what she said:

"Dear God, please help me to learn my numbers. Please help mommy and Papa to buy stuff. I want mommy and Papa to be happy. Please help me to eat fast. (pauses) Please Papa... don't work so hard so he can come back. And I want mommy to be happy. Amen."

And I think... no matter how hard I ride her to learn her how to add and to count and to read (words like "refrigerator" and "service station") and to spell and to do all the things 6-year olds do at the age of 4 (like a f*cking Tiger parent)... and no matter how hard I scold her to eat faster and to chew and to swallow (with my constant groaning and my imploring "ay por favor Psyche!") and to finish her food all on her own, driving me up the wall, driving me bananas...

She still humbly asks that me and Pao are happy.

After that, she can pretty much f*ck up and annoy the living sh*t out of me... and I'd still be proud, knowing that I have raised an incredibly smart and beautiful child... with a divinely loving soul.

She lives up to the purpose of her name everyday. And my God, I wouldn't be surprised if she found the f*cking cure for cancer when she grows up. The girl is going to make history.

                                           This is the face of a Nobel Prize winner.

But right now, I don't mind enjoying her being a weird, annoying little dork who asks "WHY?" to just about EVERYTHING!

Case in point:

Psyche: Mommy? Why is his [beebeela, her teddy bear's] nose brown?
Me: Cuz he's a bear, babe.
Psyche: So why is his shirt pink and why is there a butterfly on it?
Me: Why do you ask soooo many questions?
Psyche: *shrugs* Cuz I'm a kid.

She can stay a kid forever.