Stay Little. (Please.)

Her pink tutu moved with each leap as the foot hit pavement and arms flailed wildly.  ”Mom, look!”  Everything is special with Ava around.  Lakes are not just lakes, but rather gigantic-holding-containers of fish and sharks, bugs and secret, buried, treasure.  Fountains are sprinklers that when she is big, this child will swim out towards and play in, while dodging mean, people-eating sharks.  Her mermaid fins swoosh from side to side as Ava explains that the green scales sparkle because, mermaids love glitter.  And glitter? Apparently fights off sharks.  True story.  Now we all know.

Please, if someone is up there, do not let this child get any bigger.  I cannot handle the emotion of watching her skip ahead with the thoughts that someday, her dreams will be shared with someone else.  Half of parenting is to make sure you don’t kill them and the other half is entirely worse: letting the very things you’ve protected with tooth and nail go.

We watched a kite fly what seemed like hundreds of feet above us while Ava kept asking when they were going to let go.  It was hard to point out the string, or to find the young boy holding the handle.  She wanted the excitement of a balloon- letting the plastic contraption hit the air and float until it could no longer be seen.  I wanted it firmly secured for safety and enjoyment.  She looked at me when I explained how kites work and she said, “but now it won’t fly as high.“

We saw the autumn leaves start changing today.  I pointed the light specks of orange out on the tree as I knelt next to her and asked what she thought it all meant.  ”It’s almost my birthday!”  It struck me then, that I am unabashedly blessed with such a fear of worrying if my child will get older.  I wondered for a moment, how selfish it might be to want someone so brilliant, to stay small, merely for my own entertainment and benefit.  It’ll be harder to scoop her up with one hand soon, or to watch her giggle at her preschooler butt when the towel falls and instead of being disgusted her her gorgeously perfect body, she finds it all silly and wonderful.  When butts stop being silly, I’m out.  My first world problem is a fear that as my child grows bigger, she’ll be less likely to watch the leaves change with me or tell me mermaid stories about little lakes in Southwestern Minnesota.  My worst fear is that she’ll grow larger and smaller simultaneously as her being blossoms but her self esteem plummets.  My fear is only compounded by that of the fact that in a few years, pink tutus will no longer match bright yellow t-shirts and polka-dot flip flops.  In a few years, you’ll be old, and wonderful and just…. big.

If you knew how much I loved you, you’d know that I couldn’t contain today to merely thinking about it, but I woke up at 3:16am to document to you, Ava-Madonna exactly why each moment is sheer and captivating perfection.  You’d know that sometimes, I sneak into your room to watch you sleep with your arms above your head as if you’re grasping the monkey bars in a dream-like state and I’m secretly envious of a very loved, mangled and adorable beanie giraffe that you clutch.  Sleep well.