torn

I'm torn.  Really, really torn.

In many ways, I'm enjoying this age (even though she's two) so much.   She's sweet, and funny, and loves to help me in my daily tasks.

When she gets up in the morning, cheeks flushed from sleep, all smiles, hair tousled, arms stretched out for me, I just want her to stay this way forever.

And yet, in many ways, I'm so excited to get to know the girl she's becoming.  The girl who loves having "pretty toes," and wearing ruffly skirts.  The girl who insists on a pink plate at lunch, thankyouverymuch.

The girl who clearly needs her own pretty apron.  Although she doesn't seem to mind borrowing the Home Depot one belonging to her big brother.

Yet in many ways, she's still a baby.  A baby who cannot be trusted alone with play dough.  

And who paints on herself while I'm distracted during schooltime.

At any rate, I cannot speed or slow the passage of time.  And so, I'll do my best to cherish the way things are, while they remain.  I'll relish the snuggles, the sweet times, the ways she's growing up.

And treasure up these precious moments while I can.