Our First Conversation

Last weekend I took the kids home to meet their newest baby cousin.  On Saturday night Chloe wanted my Dad to take her up to bed.  Of course, he obliged.  He is wrapped so tightly around Chloe's finger that there was no other choice. 

After reading her about five more books than I ever would have he nearly had her asleep when all of a sudden there was a loud BOOM outside.  It scared Chloe, and she jumped into my Dad's arms.  He brought her downstairs to see what made the noise.  It turns out that a car had backfired and broke down outside of our house.  We explained to her that it was just a car making noise. 

Later that night she woke up, wandered into the bathroom, and started crying.  I was feeding Abram, so I couldn't immediately come to her rescue.  My Dad heard her crying, came upstairs, helped her go to the bathroom, and then took her back to bed.  He slept with her the rest of the night.  Fast forward to last night.

I sat on the couch in the basement and Chloe sat on the end table.  She was kicking her legs, alternating from left to right.  She had helped herself to an Izze sparkling juice just moments before having a seat.  I sat there watching her slurp on her "pop," put it down, slurp, down, slurp, down, when she started telling me a story. 

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  Slurp.

Me: Why were you crying?

Chloe: I was crying in Papa's bathroom.  I said "Waaaaah!"  Slurp.

Me: I remember.  Why were you crying?  Were you scared?

Chloe: Yeah.  I was scared.  Car made a loud noise.  Went BOOM!  Slurp.

Me: That's right.  Then Papa came upstairs.

Chloe:  Papa slept with Chloe.  All better.  I want to see Papa! 

Slurp, down, slurp, down, slurp, down.

I just sat there staring at her.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I didn't know why she was crying in the middle of the night.  She didn't tell us.  But here she was a few days later just telling me all about it.  Like we were old friends.   

I wanted to dive across the couch and scoop her up, but I didn't want our conversation to end.  I know it was just a conversation about a loud noise that made her cry.  It was hardly a conversation at all.  But it was our first real conversation.  One that I didn't have to initiate.  One that wasn't about Dora or Knuffle Bunny.  It was about something that actually happened to her - a few days ago, even - that made a lasting impression on her memory.  Not only did it make an impression, but she was able to communicate her thoughts to me.  Is it just my post-pregnancy hormones, or is that just so cool?