Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Your mom would probably even say your turd is somehow artistic- perfect for a coffee table book on crap- perfectly formed and somehow beautiful.
I can understand this now.
I am blinded by my daughter's brilliance. I know she will never be perfect, she will have flaws, there will be people who do not like her (even though I will not understand why), she will fail at times, and she probably won't be good at everything (but most likely she will good be at almost everything), but she is perfect for me. We coexist in a way I had never understood before. We abide in one another.
And therefore, I am the mother that took a picture of her first turd and text messaged it to my sister.
And therefore, I'm pretty sure every macaroni necklace, drawing of a tree (oh! so that's what that is!), finger painting, made-up song about a purple giraffe, belch, lost soccer game, botched dance recital, silly story...will be precious to me.
And therefore, I will probably tell her she could sell her macaroni necklaces, publish her stories, be the world's best tone-deaf musician, dance for the president, and sell that coffee table book with her first turd on the cover- all before the age of 5.
at 1:57:00 PM