Tiny Magicians

You look at him with wide eyes, full of light and hope and trust. You seem to look at him as if he holds the moon up in the sky, as if the way he drives a matchbox car is magic. I suppose, to your tiny little person, it is magic. He is magic.

I wonder if you will always think he is brilliant and magical and trustworthy. Sometimes he bops you on the head and you cry. But moments later you fix your gaze on him and all is right in your little world again. The fascination and admiration with which you look to him is astounding. It leaves me paralyzed at times.

Yet again, I find myself more challenged by you, my second-born, my daughter, than I ever imagined. You, in a different way than your brother, are making me question things I have long held true. You are reminding me how we all begin from a place of love. And you are pushing me to keep open to magic, even if we get bopped on the head.