The few minutes I have talking to you have become the best parts of my day.  For those couple of minutes I am that little girl again. I have short blonde hair, a chocolate mustache, and a sundress. We are playing Barbie’s on the deck in the sunshine, or dancing together to the nutcracker, or having a water drinking contest at midnight in the Kitchen. Maybe we are scarfing down Phish Food Ice Cream, or watching I Love Lucy. Maybe I’ve snuck down into you room again, and you pretend you don’t want me there, but really you do. We’ll spend the night talking about the family, and listening to the Princess Diaries, or Sammy Keys. Maybe we are folding clothes in the living room to help us focus, and we end up getting in a fist fight. Sometimes we are swinging on the hammock making up songs. Maybe we are dancing on the wooden table to All That Jazz in too short dresses or Dancing to “Man I Feel like a Woman” in Grandma’s Dress Up. Maybe you’re on the bottom bunk watching my peed on underwear slide down the wall from the top bunk. Maybe you sneak up there with me and secretly watch the TV in mom and Dad’s room. Maybe you trick me into being the dad from dream doll house, and you get to be all five of the girls. Maybe you are flickering the lights in the hallway and watching me fold my body into as many crazy and disturbing shapes as I can, to reenact a scary movie trailer. Maybe we are listening to “Where the Red Fern Grows” on an airplane.  Or we could be lying in my big new bed, wrapped up warm in my clean white sheets, laughing our brains out to The Even Stevens Movie, or drooling over Pride and Prejudice. Maybe we’re just lying there listening to music and talking. Maybe we’re just lying there side by side saying nothing at all. For those couple minutes a day, I am my favorite girl. The girl I wish I could always be. Those moments are the best moments.