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My daughter and me


My daughter thinks I am a “fully developed person”. How nice of her. And she wants to be ME when she grows up. Not resembling me, or looking something vaguely close to me. She wants to be exactly me (the person that I am not very sure I would like to be myself sometimes). I am lost here... I feel like crying out “No!”, but instead I have to say politely how flattered and happy I am to hear such a statement but she is a great person herself and she will become a wonderful fully-developed woman thanks to her own merits. She would not listen to that, this is not her idea of her future self. She has just come to terms with who she wants to be and she would not be talked out of that. Not now.

Mommy, I want to be YOU, I mean it! Totally!!!”, she assures me. Everyone knows that with second graders no statement is truly meant until it is expressed by such a meaningful adverb like “Totally” (it should always be followed by at least three exclamation marks - !!!). So if she “totally” means it, then she truly does. Thank you, Bratz or Barbie, or classmates, or whoever placed that expression into my daughter’s mouth. Now she uses it as her favorite emphatic word and she “totally” loves it.

So, since I cannot convince her that she is hitting a wrong path by wishing to become ME one day – I better sit and listen to her why she “totally” means that. Well, she thinks I am a “fully developed person, in every way”, and she is explaining to me why she thinks that. She is talking and talking, and she tries to make her point and she is so sweet when she speaks like that, but the more she uses the “fully developed” part, the more I feel the wish to burst out in laughter.  You are so right, sweetheart, I am. Looking at myself in the mirror, I look more “developed” at places I would rather not be - but life is a bitch, you cannot have the cake and eat it at the same time. I have chosen to eat it so many times that it has lead to my overdevelopment here and there, well, here more than there…. Anyway, I keep on listening to her.

She seems so serious and she is watching me with adoration and complete unconditional love, and I can read the Mom-I-totally-mean-it statement all over her face.  I do cherish those magical moments – they will pass within a blink and she might wake up very soon one morning just hating most of the things I do or say, and she might despise any slightest resemblance with me.

Almost a week after this nice talk of ours, she has ordered the “#1 Mom” bracelet from the Christmas fund-raising campaign at school  - I believe half of the female population might be wearing that same bracelet. She says I “totally” deserve it because I am “totally the best mom in the whole wild world”. And she is nodding authoritatively. She knows stuff. Actually she knows everything, totally. Only she is usually not that open for sharing. But now she totally is. She has these huge eyes and you can really see all the love in the world in them. I feel like walking five feet off the ground.

And there is one more thing she wants to share with me before sending me off, as she needs to do stuff on her own. She says she needs me to know something very important. “Mom, you know what? You are my best-est friend ever!” What else can a fully-developed woman like me expect to hear in addition? Nothing, beside the sound of a huge smack.