Because you asked…

She was born at 30 weeks and weighed 4 pounds.  We were so careful with her but she found her way into the dirt and ate snails and car wax while we were not looking. When she was two, her aunt bought her a purple velvet and taffeta dress with satin ribbons.  She twirled and twirled in front of the mirror and wore the dress daily, even sleeping in it.  Every few days we’d have a negotiation to get it off and into the wash.

She is always asking questions.  “Mom, what would happen if all the cows in the world couldn’t give milk anymore?”  “Mom, what if a tree fell on the house and we weren’t home and we came back and went inside?”  And the ubiquitous statement, “Mom, we should get a dog.” When she was five we took her to Disney for the first time.  We lost her getting off the Dumbo ride, and it wasn’t the last time.  She’s attracted to shiny things and will wander away when she sees something sparkly.    

She plays the trombone, almost.  When she shockingly picked it up in 5^th grade it was bigger than her and I was secretly pleased because she didn’t pick the other “girly” instruments.  She keeps forgetting to practice and, when she does play, it is so faint that no one can hear.  

Soccer was a challenge.  She refused to kick the ball and it would only make contact if it accidentally hit her shoe as she moseyed across the field.  Then, we decided on dance to keep her moving.  She learned the Train dance, had one recital and never looked back, so we returned to sports.  Softball is not her forte.  Whenever she’s at bat, the only sounds I hear is her coach yelling, “awwww come on!!”

She broke my heart at eight when I proudly presented her with a new outfit I’d bought that day.  “You know mom, I’m not into Dora anymore” she said, not too unkindly, and quite patiently.   Nevertheless, there was this smashing, splintering sound and, if I let my mask slip, on the inside I looked like the timeless Munch artwork, The Scream.  It was that instant of recognition, the epiphany of the childhood rite of passage and just like that my little girl was no more. 

Last night, as I was sitting on the corner of the couch, she came over and insinuated her body between me and the arm and burrowed under the blanket with me.  My little girl was back and finally cuddling with her mom.  Then she said, “Mom can you move because I need more room to stretch out.”