The door opens, I see that big ridiculous grin, at the top of the stairs and all my cares and worries from the day slide away. Up the stairs I go, and before I even set my things down, she runs into the living room and looks my way, inviting me to come and play. It’s the princess castle her mother and I had wanted to get her for months and months, and now, here it is. I excitedly enter the living room and get down on her level, looking at all the dolls and rooms and features. In her cute little voice and what I’ve always called her ‘Chinese’ language, she shows off her latest toy. She knew I came to play with her, and it was our time.
The front doors to the castle open and a grand trumpet tune plays. A dance floor twirls the little figures and songs come forth. Table, chairs, royal bed and even a horse and buggy in pinks and purples and teals are all we need for the time, and through it all the only word I hear is ‘auntie.’
Dinner break is unacceptable until she’s seated next to me, hand on my wrist, sharing my meal. Although she’s minutes from bedtime, she has learned from an early age that what’s mine is hers, so she digs into the French fries on my plate, makes sure I have enough BBQ sauce and asks for ketchup when we run low. When a fry is too hot, she hands it over so I can blow on it. Doesn’t matter that she’s already chewed it slightly; we have an understanding, her and I. When the plate is just about empty and we’ve both had our fill, the sign for ‘all done’ appears, she begs to be let back to the floor and it’s back to the princess castle with music and movement.
When the songs play, she dances. Twirls and spins and gets dizzy, falling in a pile only to get up again and twirl some more. When the twirling ends, she figures out I have long hair that needs to be hand brushed. I don’t even mind that her fingers are likely lightly coated in salt and BBQ sauce from our fries eaten minutes before. She has let me into her world, and in that world, I can handle a little extra grease. After the hair treatment, she runs out of the living room and then returns with a bottle of lotion; it’s massage time. She pretends to put the lotion on my back and gives a quick little rub. This is repeated a few times until she’s satisfied with her work.
Her mother joins in and the tickles begin. That laugh, the giggle of her incredible delight gets me every single time. I want to jump in, but find myself just watching her react and respond. There’s as much joy in participating as there is observing her carefree spirit.
She’s my little munchkin, and every moment in her world brings gladness to my soul.
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