A Hug, a Dance and Coldplay

We have a rule at our house: I never let go of a "Penélope" hug first, we hug until she lets go.

Yesterday, she was, shall we say, CRABBY. I don't like crabby. Usually, it means I get crabby. So after listening to the moaning and whining and crying I decided we should dance. Well, Little Miss Crabby did not want to dance; she wanted to "crab." And after the coercing didn't work, I simply picked her up into my arms.

Immediately, she wrapped her little arms, still sticky with bits of snack, tightly around my neck and the moaning stopped. I cued the music to Coldplay's, Strawberry Swing. She rested her snotty-dried cheeks onto mine and we swung to the dreamy sound of the music.

To my surprise, Strawberry Swing was long gone and four tracks later, her clasp was still tight. We twirled and swayed and every once-in-a-while I'd peak at her face. She wasn't laughing or being goofy, just content, every so often closing her eyes and soaking in the hug. Little did she know that it was me who was soaking it all in...