Evie asked me last night with a ginormous stutter as if she couldn't get her thoughts from her mind to her mouth, "Um um um, mo mo mom . . . um um uh . . ."
I coaxed, "Yes, what is it?"
Evie, "Uh uh uh . . . I um was um wondering . . ."
Me, "Uh huh . . ."
Evie, "do you . . . uh . . . you know how Santa gives presents?"
My eyes widened with joy. My sweet girl was already thinking about Christmas in October. She's following in my footsteps! I answered, "Oh yes! I know. What about it?"
Evie, "Um do you think that he gives . . .um . . . wishes too?"
I took a deep breath and screwed up my mouth bracing her for disappointment by my looks. I said, "Well, I don't think it usually works like that. Why don't you tell me what your wish is." I was hopeful, but pretty sure I would be denied.
True enough, Evie started to open her mouth but closed it again before she responded, "Well, I can't tell you one of my wishes." To soften the blow, she followed up with a smile, "But I can tell you one of them."
I was satisfied and said, "Okay."
Evie moved my hair away from my ear, leaned forward and in her best whisper, she said, "I wish you could be a ballerina and I could sing for you to dance all, all, all the time."
I looked at her in shock and said, "Me? You want me to be a ballerina?"
I responded, "I would love that, sweetie."
And I would. She's so lovely in every way. Too bad I'll have to tell her that I don't think Santa grants wishes for Christmas.