I was unexpectedly and very briefly nauseated the other morning, possibly triggered by dehydration and toothpaste. Chloë was in the bathroom with me, and after I'd knelt at the bathtub and pressed my suddenly-hot face to the porcelain I asked her to go wake up Daddy and tell him I wasn't feeling well.
She did exactly that, and when Eric had gotten up and retrieved Maia, who'd woken at about the same time, both girls collected around me, touching me and patting me and rubbing my back--exactly the way I do when they're not feeling good. I told Eric that I felt like an ancient king with slave girls fawning on me. Sometimes the girls' constant attempts to touch me get on my nerves. But it was very sweet that they knew I wasn't feeling well and wanted to comfort me.
They did the same with Eric the other day; he was feeling a bit overwhelmed, and they clustered around him, saying, "I love you Daddy." When I've been upset, Chloë will turn to me and say, "What's wrong, Mama?" in a concerned tone and try to stroke my arm or back. Maia often pats my back when I'm holding her--though I think that's just because we do it so often to her she thinks it's de rigueur when being held. These are sweet, sweet girls we have.