Make God's Praise Glorious!: Duet with Daisy

Age 2 at Halloween, Photo by Mom

MAGIC happens when a three year old comes for a visit. Last week our granddaughter Daisy was with us for several days. That trail of Pixie Dust woke me early this morning with a smile as I recalled several "just the two of us" moments from that recent adventure . . .

Did you know you can make gravy with pink Play-Doh if you have enough apple juice left in your sippy cup?

Did you know Grandma's velvet-seat piano bench makes a perfect three-year-old height imaginary castle-like dining table? Perfect for spreading out the gravy . . .

[Did you know Play-Doh cleans up without a trace? Even the bright pink kind.]

And many more lovely moments: laughter at the park, peek-a-boo in a homemade tent, big appetites at the dinner table, lots of bubbles for the evening bath ritual, brushing our teeth together at the dual sinks in the Big Bathroom, playing checkers on the porch at Cracker Barrel, licking lollypops, tossing a ball in the front yard before supper.

But the dearest moment of the week to me was at bedtime on Day Two. Getting a three-year-old to fall asleep in a strange, regular-size bed with Mom and Dad a hundred miles away is tricky.

With a little night light on, stories finished, and crickets singing outside the window in the woods, Miss Daisy lay on her pillow with eyes wide open, fighting off the Sleep Fairy as only a three year old can do at 11:30 p.m. I sat at the foot of the bed on a chair, quietly praying for her and enjoying just being with her at the end of a busy, happy day.

Feeling the muse myself, I started to softly sing a song for her that I'd made up when my kids were little. It's a make-it-up-as-you-go kind of ditty:

For Daisy, Lord we thank you.
For Daisy, Lord we thank you. . .

[sing 2 more times to round out the stanza]

She has happy eyes and a button nose
And a giggly laugh, and tiny toes . . .

[make up 2 more lines then sing the opening refrain]

At first she sat up, looked at me and said (loudly) "No!" I suppose in her mind, grandmas don't sing. But I persisted and she snuggled back down and listened. Then I started the next stanza . . .

For Daddy, Lord we thank you . . .

With those words, she sat up, crawled over the covers, crawled into my lap and started singing too.

For Daddy, Lord we thank you . . .

And so we sang. Me in the Key of G Major and Daisy in the Key of Pixie Magic. Me in rhythm and Daisy in the rhythm of childlike innocence. Me with a tear in my eye and Daisy with a twinkle in her eye at the thought of Daddy. Rocking back and forth. We sang together in a quiet house accompanied by the Cricket Band outside the window.

For Mommy, Lord we thank you . . .

Angels in disguise watching as she slept

We finished with a hug and kiss. I laid her back down as her wide eyes looked at me with a world of love in their deep pools. For Daddy. For Mommy. For Grandma too.

We were bonding, and it made my heart sing its own thankful song of deep and quiet joy.

And here I invoke the privilege of a grandparent and post . . . what else? Pictures!