Isabella needed some alone-time with me. That much I knew. So on Tuesday morning, I trucked in an army of baby-wranglers to deal with the twins (at one point, the platoon included two aunts and my grandma) and she and I took off to her happiest place on Earth.
She didn't whine, beg for toys in the gift shop, or demand that I carry her as we moved through the museum, all behaviors she tends to exhibit when we're there. Instead, she was perfect - running through the halls as if she owned the place, taking my hand and leading me to tables to do various art projects, smiling and laughing and having a blast. We spent two blissful hours there. It's been a long time since two hours have elapsed in Isabella's world without at least one tantrum. And in this time, I reacquainted myself with my little girl, with her quirks and mannerisms and nonstop chatter, with everything that makes her unique and wonderful and fiercely loved.
At one point she looked at me and said, "This is my best day."
It was my best day too, baby girl.