Hedgehog Love

After reading Emma her nightly bedtime story from a book called "Love Is...", I asked her what things she loved.

Emma: "I love jellybeans."

Me: "I love jelly beans, too."

Emma: "The purple the green the blue and the orange. Not the red. That's for you."

Me: "Oh! I love the red! What else do you love?"

Emma: "Ummmmmm, I love my big girl room'"

Me (preening): "Really? What else do you love?"

Emma: "I love hedgehogs."

"Hedgehogs? What?"

"Hedgehogs, Mama. I love hedgehogs." This was said with a surrender in her voice, a complete statement that could not be argued with once you REALLY knew what a hedgehog was. Kind of like saying, "It was meant to be!" with that particular lilt to your voice.

"Emma, I don't know what you mean." Maybe I misunderstood. Emma put her little hands delicately on either side of my face and leaned in, to the point where my eyes could hardly refocus to see her face clearly.

"HEDGE. HOGS. That's all. Hedgehogs."

"Oh," I said, convincingly, "I see." Emma was totally unconvinced and told me,

"I'll show you." She jumped off of her bed and rummaged through her books until she found a particular book called The Hat by Jan Brett.

"See, Mama? A hedgehog. I LOVE hedgehogs."

After that amazing revelation by my daughter I tucked her in and kissed her goodnight. Then I had a strong glass of wine. Since when do 3 year olds think about hedgehogs and their admirable qualities? It is nearly too much for my heart to bear.