Every morning, you walk out of your room,
That blonde bedhead hair flying all around in disarray,
Sleepy eyes adjusting to the LED lights.
You take my breath away.
I cannot look at you now without seeing you
in all your various stages.
The chubby legs you had as a baby,
what I'd always wanted - a healthy baby.
Now, your legs barely fill out her leggings.
What is with this leggings stage anyway?
I still see the toddler changing into three or four
princess dresses a day.
Don't forget the crown and wand,
high heels three times the size of your feet.
Your favorite color was always pink
until Elsa blue came along.
Of course, now Elsa is for babies.
I look at your hands, and immediately
images of them holding a frog or a snake or a flower
come to mind.
You've always learned by putting your hands on things.
The most pleasant surprise, to me,
is how much I like you.
I can't always separate being your parent
from being your friend.
Maybe I don't have to.
God made you and it was very good.
I feel like I'm finally starting to get to know you.
I feel like you're finally getting to know yourself.