A Kitchen

Much to my delight, I got a text from Amelia this morning telling me that she was awake and on Skype if I wanted a chat. I've decided that my favorite time of day is early early morning [4am-7am], and so instead of trying to wake up for it, I just stay awake for it. It was chilly at 4 am this morning, so I went for a long walk by myself and listened to simple music and looked up at the stars. The sky was dark and clear, and I thought about all the different places I've seen the stars from and all the places I want to go, and then tried to picture what the sky looks like at night there. Once I'd been out long enough, I returned home and warmed my hands until they tingled and then began to write. Not long afterwards, I got Amelia's wonderful text message.

So we're back where we began. 

I immediately hopped on Skype and called Amelia. I got a "Hiiii Ehwah!" from Lilly as Amelia disappeared and then returned with little Jack, who I saw for the first time. His tiny body was wrapped in a swaddle and so all I really saw of him was his chubby cheeks and his full head of hair and his little eyes which opened a few times. What a gorgeous little guy. 

Amelia held him and patted him gently on the back, and she had the glow of a proud mother as she talked about how he's sleeping well already and how he burps like a boy. Lilly, of course, was much more active than Jack. She was roaming around the house, bringing Amelia a MacBook [in case she needed it], and then "choo-chooing" as she played with her train set. She would walk right up to the camera and smile and then hop away, like the little bunny Gigi always calls her. 

The highlight of the conversation was when Amelia asked Lilly to talk about her Christmas list. (Joe has written a fantastic blog about this list, and before you go any further, I highly recommend reading it.)

Lilly promptly [through the translator Amelia] relayed the list to me: an orange bike, orange bike grease, a horsie, and a kitchen. 

- "And who's getting you the horsie?" Amelia asked.

-"Joef."

-"That's right, Joef is getting you a horsie for Christmas," Amelia said, fighting back a laugh. 

Amelia and I laughed about this list -- it is so sweet, so all over the place, so Lilly. I laughed because Joef had been tasked with getting a two-year old a live horse, and somehow, like the list itself, that just seemed perfect.

And then Lilly said something which Amelia translated for me again.

-"Oh, and Edward's going to get you the kitchen?"
-"Yeah."

And so, as if we needed any more validation, Lilly is officially Amelia's daughter. Not only is it October and she's already got her Christmas list laid out, but she's now delegating who's going to get her what, to be sure that there are no gaps come Christmas time.

But just to recap: Joe gets off with a horse [a terrible sentence when taken out of context], and I'm stuck with an entire kitchen. Now Joef's horse doesn't look so bad at all. And all that's left for Santa is the bike and some bike grease.

The conversation ended a few minutes later -- little Jack had nodded off in Amelia's arms and it was time to put him down for yet another nap. And as Lilly smiled and waved goodbye, I felt a sense of dread. Come Christmas time, I'm destined to disappoint my goddaughter. Joef can get her a plastic horsie if he's too lazy to hunt down a real one, and Santa I'm sure will be able to find some little orange bike and some orange grease to go along with it [and maybe some orange carrots for the horsie?] But a kitchen? How in God's name am I supposed to give my goddaugther an entire room? And not just any room. Your basic American kitchen has:

1) a stove

2) a sink [with running hot and cold water]

3) a fridge

4) a freezer

5) tile floors

6) a microwave

7) a dishwasher

8) countertop space

9) cupboards

10) an oven

How the hell am I supposed to carry all that on a plane?  

And how the hell do you give a little girl a kitchen? 

Thoughts/suggestions/prayers welcome.