As I was growing up, my mom would often use the line "You must've read my mind" when my sister and I made our beds out of the blue, washed the dishes voluntarily, or did something that really pleased her. I always thought of it as a joke. Later on however, when the three of us lived in three different countries, my mom would call at odd hours, at the very moment I needed her. It makes me wonder now whether my daughter and I have this connection.
A few nights ago, while I tucked her into bed, she blurted out something I had not shared with anyone it left me a bit perplexed. "How did you know that, hon?" I asked her in the calmest tone I could muster. "I can read your mind, mom," was the very matter-of-fact reply. Hmm...was all I could say. Two days later, after I wrote my last post about my son, my husband and I were talking about how I finally finished writing it after not being able to save the first draft. After listening intently, she asked "What's it about mom?" then proceeded to ask if I wrote about her brother. She is into writing her own stories now. You know, things like "One day, Isabella came to my house for a sleep-over. We played until mommy said go to sleep. The End." That kind of stuff. I don't know if our "writers' minds" were colliding at a certain point in space that she's able to read my mind, but the next thing she said floored me. "Did you write about how he likes to be a puppy?" There was no way. No way she could have known this. My kids don't have their own computers, cannot turn on our computers, and will not dare so without permission. I wrote that post after I brought her to school, forgot to save it, reconstructed and finished it just before I picked her up, edited when we got home while she did homework in her room, had a snack, and played until it was dinnertime. There was just no way!
So my husband and I looked at each other, then at her. And I had to ask again "How did you know that?" to which she answered "Remember, I told you I can read your mind?". I stopped asking. But it boggles MY mind! When your mother tells you that you can read her mind, it's amusing. When your seven-year-old daughter says she can read yours, it's alarming. But hey, I'm not complaining. Come to think of it, I just might ask her to send a message to her grandmother tomorrow. Then I wouldn't have to ride my broom all the way to the other side of town.