We finally made it down the stairs and I had both girls strapped into their car seats; off to ballet class after much discussion about what to wear, which shoes were appropriate and why her hair shouldn't hang in her eyes while she dances... We're on a schedule here!
As we pulled away there was a sudden panicked cry. "I need my blanket!"
"No you don't. You can't dance with your blanket. It'll be safe in the house and waiting for you when you get home."
And then I heard the tears in her voice. "But I wanted to take it with me."
I stopped, I sighed with the burden, I leaned towards teaching her a lesson about being responsible for her possessions and prioritizing wants versus needs, I looked at the clock counting down the minutes.
And then I backed up, ran into the house and grabbed the carefully placed so she wouldn't forget it blanket waiting on the futon.
And those teary eyes, the arms cradling the pink polka dots and the hint of a smile - they inspired my little prayer of thanks that I'd chosen those 30 seconds to nurture her little heart rather than adding a tiny little crack. Adulthood adds enough cracks as it is.