I love looking at That Baby. I love the chubby babyness of her little legs and arms. I love the way her nose crinkles when she smiles. I love her little squidgy toes. I love the big, round, deep, dark pools of her eyes. I love the strong little chin that juts out and just screams “stubborn”. I love the freckles and beauty marks that we’ve come to know so well.
I am enchanted by the individual parts that make a gorgeous, sweet whole.
There are times when I am surprised by what I see. Like, when I am looking at her while we are rocking at naptime. I’m gazing into her eyes. She’s blissfully moving towards sleep, bottle of milk in one hand, blankie in the other.
I look at her, and suddenly I see her eyes transform. Become more distinct in their almond shape. She looks at me, and I see the eyes of the generations upon generations that have come before her. I see the eyes of so many women I have met.
And it hits me, a wave of shock and fear and betrayal:
“OH. MY. GOD.
YOU.. are going to become… A TEENAGER!
A teenaged GIRL!!”