A Quick Celebration

in which my daughter melts my heart with her confession of not listening and staying up late to read

This morning as she munched a bagel, my daughter looked at me and grinned and said, “Dad, after you tucked me in last night, I didn’t go to sleep!”

“Oh, you didn’t,” I asked, stirring my espresso into my cup of steamed milk.

“No,” she said, beaming, “I stayed up and read my new book by myself. I got to page 13.”

I quit stirring my coffee. It was like a fog I hadn’t even been aware was permeating the apartment had been lifted. My sinuses cleared, my ears popped, and all I saw seemed bathed in the kind of light you want for your Instagram garden visit shots.

This is the first time my daughter has stayed up to read on her own. Usually, her mother or I sit beside her and encourage her by reading out the words she doesn’t recognize and struggles to phonetically pronounce (like cough) or the ones so long she doesn’t even attempt to read (like brainstorming). Yesterday after dinner was the first time she read quietly to herself.

My daughter is young enough she still confesses when she does something we’ve asked her not to do. Usually, she tells us a few days later. But, I could tell she had impressed herself with her late night solo reading under the covers and wanted to brag sooner than usual.

I’m thrilled. Driving her to school, the trees surrounding our apartment clapped their hands and the blackbirds and squirrels cheered, “you go, girl!”

I hope all her future rebellions will make me this happy.