Not my (abusive) mother but my grandmother ( hope that is OK ).......
Learning how to cook by being with her in the kitchen so much, sitting on the counter from a very young age and helping to sift, stir, roll and chop. Being allowed to control the whole process for a recipe as soon as I was able...rather than just being given the simple assistance jobs.
Singing in the car. Always. And there being a song for everything .....often with the words changed to fit some irrelevancy at the time. ( I did this with my own, and now smile as I hear DDs singing nonsense snippets to their children )
Talking at bedtime - always, when I was tucked in, we would spend 5 minutes talking about the nicest thing which had happened in the day.
The occasional times when we 'broke the rules' and she treated it as though she was also being 'naughty' - staying up long past bedtime to watch a film, putting our feet up on the sofa together, and eating too many chocolates. She made those times into small adventures in which we were a partnership against the world.
Sitting under the table with me to eat dolls picnics - leading on to sitting in my bedroom teaching me how to apply make-up and curl my hair, as I grew older. She came down to my level, to interact.
She was also the strictest person I knew - about table manners, courtesy, speech, deportment, education and personal grooming.
It never mattered that she told me off, because I absolutely knew she was on still my side.