Earlier this week, Charlotte and I decided to make popsicles.  We juiced a few oranges, threw in a handful of strawberries and raspberries, blended the mix until smooth, and poured the juice into popsicle molds.

Yesterday after preschool she asked for a popsicle and while I was getting everything ready in the kitchen, she grabbed a loose sheet of paper she saw on the dining room table and banged out a drawing.

“Look!” she said when I came into the dining room with her popsicle.  “This is Momma!  AND THIS IS CHARLOTTE!”

She began drawing distinct faces about two months ago.  Eyes.  Hair.  A nose.  A mouth.  Ears.  Sometimes eyebrows or a chin or a neck.  After about a month of drawing faces, she started to draw bodies.  At first the person’s arms came out of their ears and then she learned to lower them.  A couple weeks ago, she started adding on hands and feet and scribbling around the body to denote clothing.

“Hey, will you look at that?”  I said to her.  “It does look like you and Momma.  Do you like it?”

She nodded.  “Yes!” she said.

“Me too,” I told her.  “But I really like that YOU like it.  Would it be okay with you if I kept it?”

“Yeah, Momma,” she said.  “Sure.  But just, but just, only if I can eat my popsicle now.”

A nice, healthy, refreshing mid-day popsicle in exchange for a piece of paper that makes my heart sing.  Something tells me I’m getting the better end of this deal.