my dewdrop has written a haiku

My niece, my noodle, my darling delight, Ruby, has entered a haiku contest. She wrote a haiku about her violin:

A shimmering peak
Fluttering ever upward
To reach that sweet note


I have loved my Ruby imperfectly. She has forgiven me for my recent, imperfect love. I sent her some Christmas presents. When she did not acknowledge them, I complained, telling her I might not feel like sending her gifts for her February birthday if she did not acknowledge my Xmas gifts.

Ruby was miffed at my manipulative loving, telling me that I was wrong for having said she was wrong. I sought comfort from my friend Tall, who has not raised children and who really should know better than to tell a wounded mother anything at all about children (it is like approaching a black bear caught in a metal trap in the woods). Tall took Ruby's side, sniffing about how the best gifts are given freely.

I stewed, I simmered, I burnt. Of course I was right. Expecting a thank you note from a talented, ten-year-old writer is not an unreasonable thing. Gradually, however, I realized that I don't want to be right about Ruby and her thank you notes. I want to be happy loving my Bibbsey. And, worst of all, I saw that Tall was right.

I asked Ruby's forgiveness. I am pleased to report that she has agreed to accept gifts from me once more, all the while reserving her absolute right to blow me off. Tomorrow, I will be mailing off a fantastic bundle of birthday presents. I included a gift each for her baby brother, her mom and her dad. Birthday favors. We are all very happy that my Bibbsey is turning eleven and everyone, I decided, should have a present to open.

We see the teen years, looming threateningly, on our horizon. All we can do is hope for the best, pray that we will survive her adolescence and love her as much as possible in the meantime. Ruby has assured me that she loves me forever but I've heard that from little girls before, eh?