Daddy's Girl is turning four in four days time. Four. It's not a very big number, really, but it means she's no longer a baby, no longer a toddler and (thankfully) a full two years past diapers.
Daddy's Girl.
And she is that. "BUT," she adds with a shy kind of smile and sincerely raised brows, " I'm YOUR girl too Mama." ~~ simple words with meaning far outweighing her little frame. Izy LOVES her Daddy. She's tough as a bed of nails, has a serious personal bubble you do NOT invade, loves to rough house, loves to twirl in a poofy dress & collect on your adoration, will call you out on anything she doesn't agree with and has enough sass to give my sixteen year old kid-sister a run for her money. But she loves her mama too. MY Girl is soft spoken, sensitive to any injury she's given you, quick to apologize, quick to hug, quick to giggle, loves anything art, paints nails and asks huge questions about Jesus.
Parents always say they've learned more about themselves, grown more and realized how much they need Christ just through having children...well, let me tell you. It's true. Without this little bundle of contradictions, I wouldn't know what it is to desperately cling to the fraying strips of my temper to keep from screeching at a 3ft irritant who has a severe urge to give her will power a workout. I wouldn't know what it is to find such joy in another person's discovery of mud. I wouldn't know the magic of what it means to really be a Daddy's Girl, I wouldn't remember half the nursery rhymes that take up space in my head. I wouldn't have a reason to actively search out various shades of purple (my other daughter doesn't DO purple, she's a pink girl.) We would miss so much intensity, so much lust for life without our whirlwind, first born daughter.
Happy Birthday to daddy's girl, happy birthday to my girl. Happy four years Izabella. :)
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