She is fiery and strong. Oh, my. Firecracker. She knows her mind, and her play is intense. It cannot be interrupted. She is my 'little bit' - always the smallest of her friends but certain she is the biggest. What do you say to the not-even-on-the-growth charts child who declares she is bigger than Daddy? She is so darn cute. Breath-catchingly poised and lovely. I wish strangers would stop saying it, because that isn't what I want her to value about herself, but it is true. A 23 year-old smiles back in her preschool photo; coy and cynical portrait on the playground.
Discipline will be an issue (umm, o.k., it is already)... that much is more obvious each day and I struggle to find effective methods that respect her intelligence and protect her spirit. More on that later. Much, much more, I'm sure. I don't intend to let our mother-daughter bond evolve into a battle of wills.
She is my heart. Who knew I could love something this, this much or with this purpose? She is my deepest insides - the best possible incarnation of me and I know now the reason I am Here. She has all the possibility in the world, and I am constantly cowed by the responsibility of helping her make the most of it. But still, she has always led us. She taught me from the very beginning that I am NOT in control. She knows what she needs, in the big sense, of course, and Mommy can only guide. Occassionally steer. Definitely not row. Monkey rows her own boat.