Last night I logged on to Facebook to wish a couple of friends a happy birthday (even though their birthdays were mostly over). As usual when I log on to Facebook, I decided to scroll down the page to see what everyone was up to.
I don't know why I do this, any more than I know why I keep eating Ritz crackers after 11:30 at night. But I do. Though I'm admittedly getting better (about Facebook, not about Ritz crackers).
Anyway, I was reading status updates I (mostly) wasn't interested in, many of them written (mostly) by people I don't know that well, when I felt Miss Anne's little hand patting my leg. I looked down at her. She had a book to read. Another book.
"Wait, Miss Anne," I said as I clicked "Like" or posted some two-word comment to someone's status update. "Just a minute."
Thirty seconds later, she patted me again.
"Just a minute, Miss Anne. Right now, Mommy's ..."
And I stopped. Looked up. Right now Mommy's ... what?
I closed my laptop. I picked up Miss Anne and hugged her. I apologized. Told her she's so much more important to me than stupid old Facebook.
She didn't understand what had just happened, but I did, and I felt so bad about it I almost cried.
What I hope she did understand, ultimately, was that she was more important than whatever Mommy was doing on the computer. Even if it took Mommy a minute to realize it.
And then we read her book. For the three hundred and twenty-first wonderful time.
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