There is a Season...

She's sleeping now, I just put her down for her nap....a late afternoon nap that she's gotten used to due to the summer vacation perk of late nights. I picked out the book this time, the tearjerker Someday, and it was a nice break from weeks of evil stepsisters and glass slippers. Afterward, I sang to her and she nestled into my neck as we rocked back and forth.

"She runs like a fire does just picking up daisies

Comes in for a landing, a pure flash of lightening..."

She is 2 years, 2 months old today.

Her size 18-24 months are neatly folded at the bottom of her closet, never to have her little head poke through them as we're getting dressed ever again. She is practically the length of her crib now, where she requests extra kisses from me every night and smiles brightly for me and daddy each morning.

She is truly a light.

She is a little flower. A poppy, perhaps. Or a daisy.

There are remnants of her all over the house. Dress-up shoes sprawled all over the living room, jewelry on the kitchen floor, purses in my bedroom. My bathroom has turned into her dressing room. My clothes have become her clothes. My makeup case (yes, CASE -- I'm a former makeup artist, so kind of obsessed with the stuff) is her makeup case. I've found her at least a few times with green on her cheeks and brown powder on her eyes. And she is a lipgloss junkie which amuses and terrifies me at the same time. She doesn't wear it all the time, but when she manages to sneak her way into my purse and grab hold of a tube, you'd think she'd pay her whole future life savings for just one swab of the glittery goo.

It's cute. No need for explanation there. But it scares me because, hello? Like I really want my 2-year-old wearing makeup. That's just ridiculous. But when she dons my glosses I know it's just her way of saying, "I'm just like you, Mommy."

And is that really such a bad thing??? Of course it's not. Especially when it's smeared all over her top lip right up to the tip of her nose.

I mean, this is what I wanted. She is exactly what I hoped for.

More, to be honest. She is way more than I ever thought my daughter could be.

I sometimes hope that the magic bean in my belly is girl so that she'll have a sister. But other times, most times, I hope it's a boy because Clementine is my one and only.

She's the one I'm going to go shopping with, the one I'm going to read all the fabulous princess stories to that my boys aren't interested in. (Well, maybe Ethan is, but not for much longer..) the one I will get my toes done with, and the one I will take to dance class and fuss over her insanely cute costumes.

Dance class.....sigh.....

The one thing I was sure of when I had her was that she would learn to dance. She would go to dance class the moment she was old enough. And that time has come. Just about one month to go.....

She'll dance to anything - and if iCarly comes on, she'll stop what she's doing and run into the room and dance like a mad woman.

She is fearless. And I pray that her fearlessness never ends. I look at her and hope that she is just as feisty in 10 years as she is today. I want her to speak her mind and stick up for herself. I want her to be strong, kind, and to stay true to herself. I want her to always dance the way she dances now. Without embarrassment, without the need for approval.

But I also know that no matter what I want for her, ultimately she will grow into her own person. She will have her own mind. She will follow her own heart. She will dance to the beat of her own glorious drum.

And that is beautiful, too.

But for now, at 2 years 2 months, it's popsicles and swimming in Mommy's arms. It's naptimes and babydolls. It's comfort in Mommy' song and fun rides on Daddy's back.

For now, 2 years 2 months is pretty. darn. fantastic.