Not long ago, I came upon her in the bathroom cheerily stuffing two full packages of baby wipes, one little wipe at a time, into the toilet. She'd just about filled it to the top and was preparing to flush.
"Hi MOMMEEEE!" she grinned as she stuffed in one final baby wipe. "'Prise!" (Surprise)
Hmmmmmm.... surprise indeed!
Actually, not so surprising.
Our daughter is two years old, and it turns out that her new job is to vacillate between incredible cuteness and extreme naughtiness. She's got the formula worked out very precisely - she always seems to know just how much misbehavior my husband and I will tolerate... without overstepping to the point where we actually get upset.
Right when we're about to get annoyed, she switches on that huge smile and says something adorable or throws her arms around our legs and says "ILUyoo" (I love you)... and of course, we both melt.
It's clear that she has already outwitted us.
Less than a month ago, I spent an entire day and a reasonable amount of money recovering our dining room chairs with new upholstery material. They looked great, almost brand new.
Approximately 26 days later, two of those four chairs have now been 'decorated' in black ballpoint pen, a voluptuous swirling design that reveals the exuberant character of its two year old artist. The fabric has also been splashed with red and brown marker, just for contrast.
Sigh.
Did I mention that the chairs now form a perfect match to the white wall and wood floor near them? That the red ink has also graced my bedspread, cabinets and clothing?
That my daughter's infatuation with art is costing me any semblance of a well-kept house?
Just when I'm about to be truly cross with her, she'll say something like: "Look MOMMEEE, I dwawing! I do pwitty dwawing!!! I dwaw my peeture!" and show me one of her 'creations' on the wall or the floor, reminding me that she is only two years old and doesn't actually understand the need to confine her creativity to a piece of paper or a coloring book.
If only we owned the house, we might actually be able to DO something with her artwork - create entire montages around it. Paint a mural around her scribbles. Instead, every time she points out another masterpiece that she has stealthily made while we were busy cooking dinner or using the bathroom, I kiss a little more of our security deposit goodbye.
Still, our resident graffiti artist is a pretty fantastic character.
Recently our girl has started to sing. She makes up her own melodies, and sometimes tries to imitate her brothers by singing "La-la-la" in melody as her own version of the "A-B-C" song.
Yesterday afternoon right at a moment when I was about to discipline her for throwing her older brother's Luke Skywalker action figure into the toilet, she began to shake her little legs and sing a song to the tune of Twinkle ~ with her own lyrics which we found to be so funny, the entire family began laughing out loud.
"Happeee Happpeee My BUTT-BUTT!" she belted out.
"Um, honey - did you just sing a song about your bottom?" I clarified.
"YISSS!!!!!!!!!!! I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she giggled uproariously. "My butt-butt!!!" Then, just to make sure I really understood, she wiggled her rear.
Her father and brothers could not have been more proud. The little boys went into hysterics for about ten minutes and made her sing her song for them over and over again. "Our sister said BUTT-BUTT!!!" chortled the four year old.
* * * * * *
I'm learning so much about little girls from my daughter, just as I've learned about little boys from my sons.
My daughter teaches me daily that girls are incredibly resilient. She has shown me that they can be fearless and funny, tender and loyal, mischievous and genuinely kind. She has shown me a kind of strength of character that is totally unique, unlike anything I've experienced with our boys.
This child does not know the meaning of backing down. She is inventive and resourceful, pulling up furniture three times her size to reach food of all kinds... especially pretzels. She yanks plants out of the ground for fun and squishes insects. She eats dirt, much to the chagrin of my mother, which gives me joy because I believe it will provide her with a much stronger immune system someday.
She will make eye contact with any stranger and wave, "HI!" and has no compunction about walking straight toward a street or a parking lot. (Not my favorite trait.)
Yet despite all of her independence and audacity, she is also the first child to give me a hug if I stumble and bang into something while carrying groceries. She is the first one to jump on my lap and give me a big kiss on my forehead. Recently, she has even begun articulating in plaintive tones the words that are surely precious to any mother: "I want my mommeeeeeeeeee!"
Yesterday I took my daughter into the pediatrician's office for her annual physical, the good ol' two year old checkup. Lo and behold, our little preemie who entered the world six weeks early at a scanty four lbs plus change... continues to measure in the 97th percentile for height for all children her age. In fact, she is now only a few inches shorter than her four year old brother. "She's in wonderful good health," complimented the doctor. "She's doing great."
What a miracle.
There isn't a day that passes in this house where I don't give thanks at some point for my three children (and probably also throw my hands up to Heaven and wonder how we're going to survive their childhood!). Having a daughter, especially a powerful daughter who is so unlike me in temperament and personality, is one of the sweetest gifts life has ever sent my way.
As I often sing to her, courtesy of The Temptations, she is my Sunshine on a cloudy day.
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