to all the planets and all the stars and back again

22 months. i won't say that it seems just like yesterday because everyone says that, and besides, we all know it is true. she isn't a baby anymore. she is a full fledged strongly opinionated, walking, talking, little girl machine. if cohen has a special place because he is the one that came after, the one that brought me back my joy, then she has one for reflecting myself back at me. i see so much of myself in her, some of it in looks, but mostly in her ways. she isn't easy with her smiles and if you walk in to a room she will probably run behind my leg, but she will peek out and she will consider it. there won't be tears of fear, but quiet contemplation of her next move. after ten minutes she will probably be asking if you want to see her dollys. she doesn't jump head first into anything and my heart is calmer for it.

she is a clever one. she likes to take off her clothes and change into something else when you aren't watching. it is not uncommon to find her room strewn with clothes that she has put on and decided against. it is always interesting to sit and watch her bring out new outfits, size them up for colour and texture, and then throw the unsatisfactory ones over her shoulder while muttering a "not that one". when it comes to which shoes, or jacket, or pj's you put on her she ALWAYS has an opinion. you are best to listen to it.

i fear that i am painting a portrait of a princess. i don't think she has verged onto that yet, and rest assured, if she does, her tiara will be taken away. mostly i just think she is a girl in ways i don't think i ever was. it is amazing how much of it is built in. the trains/cars/planes and clothes/dolls/kitchens. it is a constant struggle to allow them to be the thing they are meant to be and to encourage them to consider the other all the same.

her latest interests take her into the kitchen. she will spend hours at the kitchen sink washing the plastic dishes from ikea, putting them in the drying rack, and then promptly washing them again. she also pretends to make soup on the stove with a variety of items from around the kitchen, including grinding the salt, and breaking the carrots. then when she is done playing she gets down on her knees with the rag and washes the floor where she has been. with an "all done" and a toss of the cloth into the sink she is back into the bedroom to change again.

she loves books, but isn't so great at sitting through them yet. she usually wants to go get another before the first is done. and so far she seems to show a much stronger inclination towards art and playdough then cohen ever did. this pleases me. i need to have a fridge full of hastily drawn crayon self portraits, it was part of the contract i signed before becoming a parent if i remember correctly. but then i always have been a sucker for art.

it makes me sad to not be here with her all the time to watch her grow into the person she is becoming, but everyday when i get home she is there at the back door waiting, her arms outstretched, her face in a grin, "how are you mommy?" she yells and everyday i say the same, "i am great now that i am here with you my little bobada" (bo-bay-da). now come on, let's play!