Hope wanted to know what in the world I do with myself when she’s not around.
Especially after she goes to bed.
I told her I go flying at night for exercise.
“Really?” she asked wide-eyed.
“Yep. After you fall asleep, I grow a tail and feathers. My nose curves into a beak. And I flap my wings and soar through the air.”
“Where do you go when you fly???”
“Oh, I just fly around the neighborhood. With my other bird friends.”
“But who babysits us while you’re out flying?”
“Um, well… I hover over the house so I can keep an eye on you. I don’t go very far.”
It occurred to me at this point that I might be getting carried away with my little story. I felt a tad guily because I didn’t expect her to just believe me so easily.
“How does it feel when you fly?”
“Um. Oh, it’s great.”
There was no turning back now. I burst into an exaggerated rendition of “The Wind Beneath My Wings” and whooshed through the living room.
Fly. Flyyyy. Flyyyyyy away. You let me fly so high.
“Mommy, will you turn me into a bird tonight so I can fly, too? Puleezzz?”
“Can you turn me into a hummingbird? A pink hummingbird!!??”
We googled pink hummingbirds and discovered there is a species of hummingbird whose feathers actually refract a gorgeous, vivid hot pink. Hope was delighted. She talked for hours about how she’d flap her wings so fast they’d hum, how her pink head would glow in the dark.
As I tucked her into bed that night, I spoke softly and kissed her adorable face,
“I love you, my little pink hummingbird.”
She smiled sweetly,
“I love you, my big black crow.”