It is so beautiful.
It was a simple request, but I was in the middle of a review.
"Daddy?"
She's four. Sometimes she just calls out because I'm very quiet when I type. I answered, half-answered really. "Yes, sweetie?"
"Come here."
I know that ploy. Call me into her room and suggest that I join her in a game. After all, I'm in her room so I must not be working.
"Daddy's busy writing. Come here and tell me what you need."
I return to writing. After a moment I hear a shuffle. My little girl, the prim little person who suddenly moved into my daughter's room a few months ago, is standing beside my desk with her pants around her ankles.
I know what's happened. There's been an accident in her bathroom. Damn. I should have realized her voice was more muffled than from her room. I envision all possible problem. She didn't make it in time. She made it in time, but those waffles I insisted we have for lunch have caused her distress. She was out of toilet paper. All of them would necessitate gloves and industrial cleaner. I stood ready. I am a homemaker now. I have been given the secrets to a clean bathroom. (Well, I am waiting for that tile grout manifesto.)
I picked her up on my way toward her bathroom. "That's ok sweetie. I'll get you new pants. We'll wash those. You can have a bath..."
My voice trailed off. She wasn't dirty. Her pants weren't dirty. I stopped. I finally noticed her eyes.
The wonder. The sparkle. Framed by an almost beatific smile.
I sat her down. She pulled up her pants. "What is it, sweetie? What's wrong."
"Come. It's beautiful. It's so beautiful."
I wasn't prepared for that. "What is?"
She motioned for me to follow her into the bathroom. "Come see! It's sooooo beautiful."
Yes, she used four extra Os. I pause here for you to imagine, as I was imagining, what I was to be shown.
With her tone of voice and look I immediately thought some evil alien had invaded her mind. It obviously entered through bathroom pipes and must lure me there to finish conquering our house. I hesitated. I didn't know if taking her far from the host would snap the mind control or if the sudden sprint out the front door would cause her pain. I looked to see if she had a small lizard tail at the base of her brain stem. (The usual point of entry.)
"I don't want a ponytail." She mistook my exam for the first step to "fixing her hair." (The "ponytail" being the only seminar I made at the last conference. I'm looking forward to next month's The French Braid and Brushing Without Tears..)
I realized I was being silly. Aliens had not invaded my daughter's mind. Then I swear I saw her face start to glow. Her tiny hands beckoned me. She said those words that sent chills up my spine, "Daddy, come look. It is so beautiful!"
There. She lost contractions. Something had caused her to alter her speech. Maybe.. I didn't want to think of what could have caused.. Unless...
Unless she was proud of something. Oh god. I knew cats liked to show off their kills, but do children really show off their bowel movements? I silently cursed my wife. She had brought Everyone Poops into the house. See what her progressive parenting had wrought!
We entered my daughter's bathroom. She gazed in the bowl, "See? So beautiful."
I stepped closer. I steeled my spine. I'm a man. Whatever I was to see I was ready -- be it PeePee or E.T.
I wasn't ready for T.P.
A single square of toilet paper in crystal clear water. It had started to break down and had adopted a free form flowing shape. My darling daughter looked at me full of wonder, "See? It's soooo beautiful."
I agreed. Not the toilet paper. But her face. Her sense of wonder in such a simple thing. The way she wanted to share it with me. It was. It still is sooooo beautiful.
