It’s 6:30 p.m. and we’re starting our bedtime ritual. My daughters Wies (four) and Sara (two) both drink a glass of warm milk and then we’re off to the bathroom. On our way, Wies asks, “Mom, can we do massage?” “Okay,” I say, “I’ll put Sara down while you brush your teeth and then we’ll do a massage.” I take my time putting down Sara.
When I get into Wies’s room, she’s all ready to go; her clothes are in the corner, her blankie is spread on the floor, and she’s laying on top of it covered by a big towel.
“I got the cream, mom,” she happily informs me, while she takes off the lid.
“Can you draw an animal on my back?” she asks. Since a week ago, this is the big hit during the massage. Before this, it was the weather story. I do a couple of broad strokes over the towel and uncover her back. I take some cream and do some broad strokes.
“Do an animal,” she says impatiently, and with my fingers I draw an animal on her back. While she starts thinking, I start massaging.
“Mmmm a lion,” she says.
“No,” I respond.
“Mmmm, an elephant?”
“No,” I say.
“Where does it live?” she asks.
“This animal lives on a farm,” I tell her.
“A sheep?” she says.
“No, this animal says mooo, mooo,” I say.
“A cow!” she says happily, “Do another one,” I draw another animal and finish massaging her back. I cover her up and uncover one leg. Wies is thinking … “A dog,” she says.
“No,” this animal lives in the water,” I say. “A fish! That was easy, mom.”
We do a couple of more animals, also on her tummy when she’s turned over. “What’s here, mom?” she asks, while she points at her ribs.
“Those are your ribs,” I tell her, while covering up her upper body.
