I carry her in my arms every time she whimpers "hold me".  My husband says she's attached to my hip.  My mother says I'm spoiling her as she watches me drop bags of groceries on the floor to carry her through the door.

"My feet are broken, Mama.  Hold me."

The groceries will never change but the sweet scent of her neck, that intoxicates me, might.

"Stop sniffing me, Mama."  She wrinkles her nose.  "Hold me tighter."

"Yes Fabulous."  I nod, allowing her to pull in the reins. I listen and hold her tighter.  She gently pats me on my back with her chubby arm.  Her silently notion of a thank you.  That brief tap tap tap on my back makes me smile so hard I look like a fool.  What other name can you use but Fabulous for someone that makes a fool feel so good?

I have many years ahead of me to teach her that the world does not stop just for her.  But for now, my world does.  Every time she whimpers "hold me" I obey and wait for that tap tap tap.  Besides, I think my husband and mother are secretly jealous she loves me so.

"I'm holding you Fabulous.  Really super duper hard."