Most of the time, her "secret" is to tell me that she has to use the bathroom.
Why this warrants more elusiveness and secrecy than a CIA mission, I can't say. Only she knows and I figure that one day, she'll let me in on her need to whisper "I have to go to the bathroom" in my ear exactly 6 times a day.
Today she comes at me, still wearing her soccer cleats from her earlier game, hands grubby, hair falling out of her ponytail, cheeks flushed from all of the activity (she is a sight - and I can't help but beam with pride at how she is becoming her own person, complete with opinions that actually make sense). She raises her hands to her face and I know what is coming next.
"Do you have a secret?" I ask.
Her nod is her answer and she's bursting, on the edge of a total gigglefest.
She leans into me, cackling, burying her face into my side. She pushes my hair away from my ear, barely able to contain her secret a second longer.
"What is it bug?"
"When we go to Grandpa Buddy's . . . " she trails off, like she can't believe what she is about to tell me.
". . . we stay up all night and drink soda!"
Her eyes are wild with sharing this most important news with me and off she runs to tell someone else.
Well, that certainly beats telling me she has to use the can, doesn't it?
This girl, I can't believe she is mine.