I almost missed it but I didn’t miss it.
See. Trying to get my kid to bed, I’d said already four times brush your teeth and finally, there at the bathroom sink, both of us brushing. Finally. I am efficient and fierce. I am the grown-up, and it is eight thirty seven pee em already goddammit. So. I look up then at the mirror and there is the child I adore with my very bones: she is brushing madly, she is frothing. For real, toothpaste everywhere. She locks me in her laughing gaze, issues this dangerous invitation. (Slow motion interior hesitation: one of thirty thousand daily decisions. It’s eight thirty eight on a school night. This could go either way.) Then like two dogs who, without a word, tear off toward the same geese, this golden daughter and I are both brushing like wild people, froth dripping down our chins, grinning at each other in the mirror.