Parker enters our bedroom wakes me up and loudly tells me the juice cup I left in her room last night is empty. I stumble sleepily to the bathroom wondering how the hell her father has managed to stay asleep.
She waits for me at the bathroom door and carefully escorts me back across the bedroom watching to make sure I don’t get drawn back into the bed. Suddenly she stops, looks up at me with all her angelic early morning beauty and says, "Mama, you’re my best friend."
I smile, run my hand through her hair, and take her hand in mine. As we head out the bedroom door, I hear my husband mumble into his pillow, "She’s good."