agency

After four whole seasons of experience; four seasons to set our lives topsy-turvy and enrich them beyond imagination, the little one turned one last week.

It may be due to this milestone, to the fabulous present from my mom when she babysat to give us 24 hours of freedom, or just that the right time has come, but I feel ready to transition to a slightly different family balance, one where she is less at the center, and more one of three.


And what blows me away these days is not her age but her agency - her free will if you prefer that terminology.

She decides unexpectedly this afternoon to practice and master walking backwards.

She develops a sudden interest for hats and glasses, and resulting in thigh-slapping funny impersonations: Rambo with her black headband, Ray Charles with her sunglasses indoors (she feels compelled to hold her mouth open when wearing those sunglasses).

She hugs, walks away, brings a book for me to read, comes back for another hug, sorts the clothes pins (winners: blue-and-yellow, losers: orange-and-green), is back for another hug.

She is determined to help us dress and undress her: socks and shoes and tights are a favourite, as are her hats as we've mentioned. But also her diapers!


At the end of the day, when I look at her (less bald) head resting on her mattress, I can't help but feel that I have two versions of my daughter: the sleeping one, which has been steadily growing in PJ sizes, a good looking toddler; and the awake one, whose developmental leaps and bounds astound me. She occasionally seems physically so small then when she's (finally) asleep.

But boy do I love the sparkle in those eyes.


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