Yesterday I was in the W.C. a moment too long, apparently, when I saw Bronwyn's fingers and golden locks appear under the door.
"Mama, can you get out?"
"No, not right now."
I hear rummaging around in a drawer in the hall.
"Bronnie, what are you doing?"
"Looking for sump-ing to get you out."
"I can get out, I'm just not ready to get out."
"Are you washing your hands?"
"Mama, wash your hands right now! See if you can get out."
Later that evening I was getting ready to go out, and I couldn't find my Phillips Light Touch Hair Brush... now, this is not paid advertisement for Phillips, but this brush does not pull or hurt... it glides through tangles like slicing warm butter... so you can imagine in a houseful of girls, this brush is in high demand. Since I could not find *my* brush, I picked up a random brush I found on my nightstand (happened to be a Conair Gel Grips brush).
Bronwyn came in my room and saw me using that brush and asked "Mama, why are you using that brush?"
"Because I can't find my brush."
She leaves and returns in an instant with *my* brush. "Here, Mama, use this. That brush hurts. Don't ever use that brush again."
Of course, I obliged. That child is always looking out for me and my gray hairs.
Last night it was very chilly, and I sent Bronwyn to bed with an extra blanket... my favorite burgundy red throw to snuggle under in the evening while sitting in the living room.
This morning we woke up to several children with headaches, sore throats, and sniffles. I, myself, have a headache and fever chills, even though warmly dressed, so I asked "does anyone mind if I crank the heat up? I'm very cold."
Then I came in here to check e-mails. A moment later Bronwyn came to me and said, "I brought your red blankie downstairs. I went upstairs and got it so you can't be cold. I put it in your chair."
Bless her sweet little heart.