It's 8:30 PM. One half hour past Kathryn's bed time. But she is not in bed. She's sitting on the couch with her mother, eating ice cream. Why? Because she is awesome. That's why.
She's awesome because today she said, "Daddy, when I get older and change my name..." She said it just like that, like it was something that everyone did when they got older, a rite of passage. "I'm going to be Gloria." She announced her new name with an amazing flourish of arms and even a little bow. "Gloria," she repeated, making it almost an eight-syllable word.
But wait, she's even awesomer than that.
When she got home from first grade today, she ran to each bed of the house and turned our pillowcases inside out. Then she went and put a single spoon under each pillow. "Dad," she told me, "you might feel a little lumpiness in your pillow tonight, but don't worry. It's to make it snow tomorrow. Also, you have to wear your pajamas backward tonight. Don't forget to tell Mom."
Can she get more awesome? Oh yes. Because tonight, with all three of my ladies in the bathtub, Lila let loose a poop for the history books. And Kathryn stood there, in the tub, wet and freezing, holding her little sisters, while we drained the tub. Did she cry? Nope. Did she complain? Nope. Did she yell, "Poopy party! Poopy party!" and then use her feet to kick some of the bigger chunks toward the drain. Yes. Yes, she did.
I told you she was awesome.
Update: After writing this, I was overcome with the need to run downstairs and ask Kathryn a question. Here's how it went:
"So, when you get older, you're going to change your name, right?"
"Yes. To Gloria." Another grand flourish, this time with an ice cream spoon in one hand, melted vanilla dripping onto the couch.
"Do you think all grown-ups change their name?"
"Well, not all."
"Did I change my name?"
"What do you think my name was when I was little?"
Kathryn thought about this. She thought about it for the next five spoonfuls of ice cream. Then she looked at me.