I don’t know what it is about that moment in a child’s life when they feel they have mastered the handstand that seems to be right up there with being born, watching Frozen for the first time and discovering hard ice cream.

 
Hanna never really had that moment. After breaking her arm in an unprecedented, still talked about by school grounds crew the board over, cartwheel accident, resulting in cartwheels being banned at our school, she shook her head at the handstand like a confused squirrel (in a cast) and never looked back.

 
But Ellie is an aggressive handstand enthusiast stopping a handstand only to hit a cement table or if her foot goes through the drywall.

 
I will admit I have found a new appreciation for her handstands over the past week or so. Even the incessant shouting, “Mom, watch this one! No wait! This one! Nope! Okay, go away and I’ll call you when I’m ready. Oh you missed the perfect one!” hasn’t diminished our mutual joy when she manages to right herself, arms straight and uh-oh, she’s going feet first into the tv (again).

 
Last night, at 9:47pm, I heard some recognizable thuds coming from her bedroom. When I called out and asked if she was okay, I could tell she was responding from somewhere in her room while completely upside down.

 
“Mom, that one was at least a 9. You would have given that one a 9 for sure. Maybe even a ten.”

 
Speaking of ten Ellie, do you know what time it is?”

 
“Yep.”

 
Thud.

 
Night-night.