I have operated under the delusion hope that Gigi is the kind of kid who won’t turn on her parents as she gets older. That, while other children her age rebel and become sassy, my daughter will retain her sweet demeanor where her family is the center of the world and Mama and Daddy are the smartest people who make the best decisions, so why question them?

Well, reality has arrived. While I do still consider myself very lucky, we are beginning to see the rebel in our daughter. Right now, it is the small things: Choosing outfits, while always a decision making challenge, has become something worth crying about if things don’t go 100% her way. When asked to do something, instead of hopping up to follow an instruction, she needs to stretch (go potty, adjust her hair, put on chapstick, fold her blanket… )first. When given advice she will sometimes answer, “I know!” or, “You don’t need to tell me that!” in a very abrupt way. When we are stretched thin when completing tasks and assisting Jude and she is asked to wait for a moment before we can help her, she will say, “It is fine, I can wait,” but not in that way where you really think she is fine, rather she is being a passive aggressive martyr, complete with big watery eyes and slumped body language.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is a good thing. As she matures she is meant to start questioning Mom and Dad’s judgment, start taking risks and she should learn to trust herself. The only way she can do that is if we take a step back, and celebrate her successes and catch her when she falls. She has to do this while she is only six so that when a mistake is made, she also learns that Mom and Dad are always here to help her out and she needs to know that we are on her side, always, even when she is wrong. I have to remember that when she is sassy and rude, it is her way of pushing us away enough so she has that personal space to do her own thinking and figure things out. I have to realize that, to some extent, I already have to begin the process of letting her go.

Just when Gigi’s maturity and questioning starts to get to me and I begin to ask myself where my baby girl went, she crawls into bed with me. I hold her in my arms, and her body folds into mine. Her hair swirls around my arms and tickles my nose, binding us together. Her distinct little sleepy girl smell mingles with mine, and in our bed, we are one again. Here is the baby girl who I have held for years. We talk as we snuggle, about the future she imagines where she will be a ballerina and dressmaker and model. She will be unmarried and will not have children because right now I am the center of the world and she cannot imagine leaving me or this place and certainly can’t imagine ever finding someone she could love that could draw her away from this perfect heaven. In this place, nobody dies, leaves or grows up – our own Neverland – and we are family, just us, forever. While I hope she finds love and happiness away from us, for a moment, I buy in, believe and stay a bit, loving her and that special place I keep in her world, and I join with her, wishing it would stay the same for always.


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