I sat down the other day to do some browsing on my laptop. I slipped into our formal living room, a place that is rarely (read ever) used. I figured that the room was so obscure and unknown to our children that they would never find me in there. I sat down for two seconds and was startled by the sound of heavy breathing. Now, I know this will seem silly to you, but remember I am in a room that is never used, and from every vantage point is completely empty save for myself. And yet, there is distinctively heavy breathing. I thought it was a rat. Haha, you say. No, seriously, my mind is so warped that it tricked me into believing there was a mongo sized rat in my house, breathing so loudly that I could actually hear him! My heart leaped into my throat, and then my brain took over. The smart side of my brain. It was Esther. Curled up between the couch and end table, smushed between the two in what had to have been the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever. He little face was crammed against the wooden sofa leg, and she was sound asleep.
She is my smile. Every day. Even when she wakes up and refuses my help getting dressed. Even when she decides to look like a ragamuffin and make me look like the worst parent on earth. Sometimes I want to put a sign around her neck that says, "She dressed herself". But, I have to admit- I kind of like her style. OKay, I REALLY like her style. It is fun and fantastic and I wish I were as brave as she is, facing the world in a chaos of stripes and flowers, and hot pink holey tights. At the same time- I am hardly even brave enough to go out with her in public.
Would someone like to make some guesses what this style will translate into when she is 15???