1. I learned that when Jane kicks my knee hard enough to leave a knot and a bruise, then hugs me, kisses me, tells me I’m her best friend and then sneezes directly into my open mouth, she’s just doing her part to toughen me up…
2. I learned that when living in an apartment building sometimes you have neighbors who yell at each other and you can hear them through the walls. And it reminds you that there are far worse things than being alone on a Tuesday night with a pack of Welch’s fruit chews and Netflix.
3. I learned that when you load a toddler into the car on a 20 degree morning, and she screams that she doesn’t like it and her face hurts, and your own face hurts, you hate the independently wealthy people who don’t have to load a toddler into a car at the crack of dawn on a 20 degree morning. You also hate them for owning their own private islands, but that’s neither here nor there.
4. I learned that during a big blustery storm Jane gets concerned that the roof will come off and the wind will blow away our “sparkling nuts.” I still haven’t been able to get to the bottom of that, but it’s safe to say she’s inherited my propensity for irrational anxiety.
5. I’ve learned that I can’t sleep in socks, bright red unwashed shirts will most definitely turn white undergarments pink, and gargling salt water really is a miracle cure.