I don't know why, but I've always liked this picture of myself (at left) as a little girl. It's not particularly good--the light is harsh, half my face is in shadow, and so forth--but still...I just like it.
So I got it in my head to try to recreate it and do some photos of Little Miss to mark her half-year birthday. Everyone is always saying how much alike we look, why not press the point, eh?
But this one at two-and-a-half? Oh my goodness, y'all, she's kicking my butt.
She is the sweetest, most darling, most lovable, most stubborn tempestuous vexing maddening creature. She's "I love you all the much mommy" as she's getting up at bedtime to (not) go potty for the third time. She's taking ten minutes to pick out an outfit and then exclaiming, "I want a new shirt!" She's shrieking with contagious, magical glee as she runs away buck-naked two seconds before you need to be out the door. She is the reason people decide to have babies, and also the reason they sometimes have to hide in the bathroom and count to 100 to avoid shaking them.
After spending a few days with her at the end of last month, my own mother told me, with an inflection of sweet revenge, "I just really hope I live long enough to see her as a teenager."
I wasn't quick enough to say it at the time, but, upon further reflection, my response should have been, "Me too, Mama. I hope she doesn't kill me before then, too."