Kiddo is up late, having sweet-talked me into having a movie night because we don't have to get up early. She shouts aloud during all the exciting (!) parts of 101 Dalmations, though we have seen it probably 20 times together in her little life.
I clean up the kitchen, pick up the toys, let the dogs outside, wash my face, get ready for bed. She is still awake, eyes gleaming, staring at the television. I turn it off and this does nothing to dent her enthusiasm. She starts asking me philosphical questions. You know, the really important ones. "Mommy, why didn't the other reindeers let Rudolph play with them?" (what cruel person would ever tell their little girl that Christmas is over and Rudolph is no longer relevant? Certainly not me; it's Christmas time all year in this house.) "Mommy, do you like bats?" "Do you like chocolate, Mother?"
I give up trying to study and start thinking about getting an orange from the kitchen. I casually mention to her that I'm going to get one. She is SO FREAKING EXCITED. I mean this orange is a big deal. She loves oranges. Especially at bedtime when she is supposed to be sleeping.
I peel the orange while she squirms on the bed in excitement. I give her a piece of the peel to smell. I split the orange with her. She is so happy. Her green eyes are just sparkling and she is smiling and laughing and watching me and letting her long hair fall on the orange wedges as I hand them to her. I hope she is always so happy.