We are watching the Olympics, or rather, I am watching the Olympics while Daughter is rolling off the couch, under the ottoman, between my feet. I am watching beautiful Kerri Walsh and fiesty Misty May Treanor come from behind against two European women in their 20′s. They, too, are beautiful and tanned. Kerri and Misty jump and they set and they slam that ball into the ground. I persuade Skylar to watch, if just for a moment.
Watch them jump! See them hit the ball?
Watch me jump, Mommy!
She slides off the ottoman and turns to face me. The game continues on the TV behind her.
Good job! You jumped high!
She jumps again and turns back to the TV. Kerri falls down.
She fall down.
Yes, honey bear, she fell down. But look. she popped right back up!
Daughter jumps again, this time with a small plastic bowl on the tips of her fingers.
Look, I hit the ball!
The orange bowl flies into my lap.
She does it again. Stands below the TV, jumping and setting the orange bowl right towards my head.
Behind her Kerri and Misty set, spike, slam until the game is theirs.
I catch the orange bowl. I gently set it back to her.
She sets it again and again and again.
Right toward my head.