My Wildflower

Considering the fact that this child was by far my cuddliest baby, I am sometimes mystified by how she has turned into such a whirlwind.  Don't get me wrong, she still loves to cuddle and snuggle and be held.  But it is also becoming increasingly difficult to keep up with her.  

She is forever wanting to go outside, or play in the sink, or dump out all the toothpicks, or locate the jelly beans, or get out the magnets, or give the dog a biscuit, or color with markers, or climb all over the back of the sofa, or get into my jewelry box, or help herself to some snacks, etc., etc., etc.

And she's a very interesting mix of stubborn and sweet.  She's wonderfully compliant in many things, especially when compared to her big brother.  But she's also developing a VERY LARGE independent streak.  If she decides she's thirsty for milk, she gets a cup, climbs up on the table, takes the lid off and begins to pour herself some.  She is typically oblivious of such minor details as how full the milk carton is or weather the spout is lined up with her cup.  So far I've been lucky enough to catch her before having a huge milk puddle to cry over.  I haven't been so lucky in respect to the canister of flour or the bag of cranberries. 

She's also beginning to INSIST on doing more and more things herself.  Which is sometimes annoying, especially when we're already running late for a doctor's appointment or for the kindergarten pick up.  But I TRY to remind myself that independence is good.  That it's one of the major goals when it comes to raising kids.  That I'll be grateful she has achieved it in the coming years.

But until then, I will still worry about the fact that she helps herself to the antibiotic ointment whenever she gets anything that could possibly be considered an "owie."  Or that she has a tendency to get into my purse and dump out all the change.

There are days that she is totally and completely exasperating.  When I have to ask her, "What am I going to do with you?!"  To which she invariably replies, "Put me in the fridge!" 

And then there are days when I find myself in awe of what a beautiful creature she is.  Kind of like a wildflower.  When I wonder at how lucky I am that she is growing in my patch of earth.  And I realize that I've had so very little to do with her creation.  The sun and the earth and the water that have helped her grow into who she is--all that has been provided by God, not me.  And all I'm left with is a profound sense of love and gratitude that I get to share in the wonderful beginnings of her life.

She's loving and funny and quirky.  She's not at all afraid to stand up to the dog when he's doing something she doesn't approve of.  She's extremely excitable, making even the most mundane things interesting and fun.

She is at the center of so many things that make us all laugh,

that fill our home with joy.  

Sitting around the dinner table, we'll often hear her make a small tick, tick sound which will grow in volume before exploding into a loud, "pakchouuu!"  I'm assuming her fascination with both bombs and bad guys has something to do with her older siblings and their overactive imaginations.  But I do find it funny that so often she is the instigator.  She LOVES to pretend that a bad guy is coming or that there's a bomb in the room. 

I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised by it.  I realized that she was a bit of a thrill seeker way back when she was learning to walk.  Because the part she enjoyed the most, the part that unfailingly made her laugh, was when she teetered . . .  and teetered . . . and then fell down with a thud.

So as much as I might like to compare her to a flower, I do realize that she is and always will be, a wildflower.  One who does not submit to every whim of the gardener.  One who blooms when and where SHE chooses. 

I think we may be in for somewhat of a wild ride with this child.  But hopefully, she'll continue to bring us joy and make us laugh along the way.