Butterflies

Being a mother is the most thankless job there is. With all the cleaning, laundry, toilet scrubbing, cooking, homework helping, child taxiing it is easy to be overlooked and harried. Often the day leaves mothers without eyelashes, smelling of vomit, and sore to their bones. Now and again those children to whom we pledge our thinness, sanity, and time reward us with something so special it makes all the rest pale in its glorious light.

Last night my three (almost four) year old daughter came staggering into my bedroom amidst desperate cries of "I gotta go pee!"
Upon my waking to this I simply replied, "Then go."
To which her hasty rebuttal was "My pants are wet!"
She was so upset she had peed a bit in her pants. I turned on the light and she finished her business in the bathroom. I moistened a wash cloth and washed her off finishing with clean panties and jammy bottoms. I sent her to bed. Her mood had somehow shifted though. She was suddenly sweet and grateful. She, upon noticing her father was at work and not in my bed, asked if she might be allowed to sleep the remainder of the night with me. She made sure to ask if she could sleep on her fathers side of the bed.
"Of course" was my retort.
Being up and moving around I decided to use the facilities myself.
When I returned to the bed I found my little girl snuggled up in my bed. Her head upon her fathers stack of pillows looked like a tiny doll. I crawled into the bed with her and found her little limbs and feet freezing. We cuddled up with each other enjoying the instant warmth of our combined heat. We both, after getting nice and warm, started to doze.
Without opening her eyes, she asked in a gentle voice, "Are you thinking about butterflies?"
I was struck by the question. An instant smile to my face appeared. I took a beat to answer. Thinking it over, I decided I was now thinking about them so it would be appropriate to answer in the affirmative.
In faint light of the unlit room I could see her beautiful face. Eyes still closed she had a look of contentment. Our conversation flitted around wings and flowers and caterpillars all the while her little face remained angelic. Contented and happy she declared her love for me and I for her. Sleep soon followed.
Of all the work and days toils, I couldn't think. Only the little priceless moment I had the pleasure and fortune to witness. Nothing in this life is as momentous as the tiny intimate exchanges mothers experience with each child.