Thursday, February 2, 2012


I love this kid.  She's incredible and stupendous.  She blows me away.

The other day we went to the Flower Farm to get a bite and check out the offerings.  We dined on PB&J and threw bocce balls down the lonely bocce court.  It was the most fun.

We were told there were chickens.  So of course, we went to find them.  There was much excitement over the possibility of chickens.  

We found them, they were the especially fluffy and cooky looking variety and were not interested in being pet by a spunky 1 year old.  She really wanted to pet them, however, and went on a mission to track them down, no matter where they went.

It took some convincing, but I got her to let the chickens be for a bit and we wandered off toward the horses.  She didn't miss a beat, clicking to them and saying, "hi".  She gets face time with horses and chickens at her grandma's, so I shouldn't be surprised that she is oh-so comfortable with them.

I am just always so impressed with her openess and initiative.  She wants to go check things out, see them, investigate, socialize.  To be honest, she was perfectly willing to pick up a chicken where I'd be a bit nervous myself.  Chickens are a bit weird for me.  Not this girl, she's all about it.  Crawling through trees and running through fields to track them down.  And what about this giant horse?  Her hand was through the fence and petting his snout before I had any say in the matter.  "No biggie, Mom".  

While we were eating lunch, a woman and her two kids sat outside and a bit away from us.  Rosie watched them get settled and looked to me, pointing at them saying, "I go see them?".  She loves to go play with other kids.  Yesterday we were at the Exploratorium and it was swarming with kids.  She pushed her way into a crowd of older kids, got into the fray of the activity with out a second thought.  

These moments make me nervous.  More than that they make me proud.  The nervousness is about losing her.  Losing her physically and emotionally.  She needs me less and the void is left a bit achy.  It's a proud ache.  We've done our job if she can survive outside of us and be a vibrant person in the world.  She's accomplishing the latter with wild abandon.  Of course it'll be awhile (years, I know) before she survives on her own, but if today is any indicator of her ability, then she'll have no problem.  

I can't help but be in an everlasting state of awe.  

No comments:

Post a Comment