little memories

So as we're putting them to bed (I am ashamed to say we still sing to Avery every night before she goes to sleep; my New Year's resolution is to put a plan in effect to phase out the ritual before she goes to college). Avery says, "Last night, Annabelle tried to sing the whole of all the songs to me and she doesn't know all the words." "Avery!" I exclaimed. "How many of the words to [trying desperately to think of something she might have heard occasionally but not all the time] 'Dreidl, dreidl, dreidl,' do you know?" "Well [she says defensively], 'dreidl, dreidl, dreidl...'" Explosions of laughter as it's clear this is as far as her memory goes!

Annabelle chimes in, "I'm pretty good with your nighttime songs. I've heard them enough. 'Over in Killarney...'" I thought of the dozens of sleepovers at our house, and Annabelle's house, over the seven or so years that they have been friends. I remember that this picture was taken at the Easter just after Annabelle turned four: we have always spent Easter dyeing eggs with Annabelle, just as Avery has spent every Hannukah lighting candles and playing dreidl, and Annabelle has come to decorate our Christmas tree, and we have come to Passover dinner (where the matzoh ball soup includes asparagus, lucky us).

John and I just looked at each other over their heads and wished simultaneously for them to stay forever as happy as they are tonight, to be as protected, and to have each other to turn to, giggling, whenever the need might arise...