I had one of those incredibly special moments in parenthood this morning.
We are all bundled up against Hurricane Sandy. The pantry is full, the heat is cranking, and we are snuggled up in cozy clothes while the hurricane rages and pounds away outside.
Sterling and I were sitting on the sofa, trading kisses.
She was straddling my lap, facing me, and holding my face in her two little hands. The game was to ask for a kiss and offer your lips, then quickly turn your face and give your cheek right before the other person kissed you.
We were both laughing like crazy, enjoying the silliness of the moment and suddenly it hit me.
One of my absolute best friends in the world is 2 1/2.
Not only is she my kid and I love her like crazy, but she is also one of my best friends.
Now I know, I have an ENTIRE blog dedicated to the mayhem of our lives, and a large amount of that mayhem is a direct result of miss Sterling's influence, but somehow weathering that nuttiness together has cemented our friendship.
Every insane little antic that she tries, every absurd thing she climbs, every poop laden object I scrub somehow just solidifies our friendship further.
I'm guessing its like the first time you hold you hold your college roommate's hair while she worships at the porcelain goddess. It's a rite of passage. A friendship cover charge. A price of admission that builds the relationship.
Either that, or my toddler has given me Stockholm Syndrome...