Bigger Picture Moment: Wide Open Paths

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Together, we stood in front of her illuminated closet, searching for the perfect back-to-school outfit.  Mia was fresh from the bathtub, warm and sweet in her nightgown, and she knew exactly what she wanted to wear the following day: a soft denim dress that cast a silvery sheen in the half-light of the bedroom. 

She laughed in a quick, tinkling way, laying the dress out -- just so -- before deciding on the perfect shoes and ruffled socks.  She was ready.

I headed to the other bedroom with Lauren, knowing exactly what to expect: she'd undoubtedly pick the frilliest dress she could find.  Something cool and light, colorful and bouncy.  I steered her towards a new dress I'd been saving for just this occasion.  Its pink and cream checks and ruffled A-line waist would satisfy her pretty-girl needs, and the fact that it was new was sure to be in its favor.  Strangely, she pushed it aside. 

Having my plans and expectations thwarted didn't bother me, I just dreaded the undoubtedly long search we'd now have for the right dress.  For I knew it would be a dress.  No question -- she's been demanding dresses for months now.  And I knew it would also be a hard-won find, because as a full-fledged 2-year-old, Lauren's indecisiveness is abundant.

But for the second time that night, I was wrong.  On both counts. 

1. She immediately chose, and

2. She immediately chose a non-dress item.

"Mama," she squealed, "I wanna wear my jumper!" 

My mouth dropped open.  This jumper -- it's the most darling thing she owns.  A blue and white denim stripe reminiscent of traditional train-conductor overalls, cut down to the sweetest one-piece romper you've ever laid eyes on.  The waist is gathered with a tiny white bow and the top is adorned with a row of ruffles over a line of chunky, round buttons.  My heart skipped a beat the first time she wore it, but her own reaction was altogether opposite.  That day in May, shortly after I'd found the jumper (romper, whatever), I forced her into it against her dress-loving will.  She tore at the straps, tugged at the waist, picked at the legs, and hated it.  I assumed that one day was all I was to be allowed with this darling outfit, and sighed each time she refused it for the rest of the summer.

Because believe me: I offered it at least 4 times a week.  Hoping she'd wear it again before it became too small. 

You can imagine my confusion when against all my expectations, she finally decided to wear it.  This shorts-bottomed one-piece.  This non-swirling one-piece. 

I quickly rearranged my face into the picture of nonchalance.  "Alright sweetie," I muttered.  "I'll lay it right here so it'll be ready for the morning."  Above all, I didn't want to break the spell and have her change her mind.

She bounded off to bed, as pleased as I'd ever seen her. 

It hit me, then: my expectations are not the end-all of childhood happiness.  The paths I choose for my daughters might actually limit them, while the paths they carve for themselves are bound to be creative and interesting.  Today, it's my assumption that she'll wear a dress, but tomorrow....maybe it's my assumption that she'll be a reader instead of an athlete.  A wall-flower instead of a butterfly.  Highly ambitious instead of quietly content.  Whatever path I think they'll take, they have the power to surprise me, to delight me, and to grow into their own selves.

And I just hope it's always as easy for me to love their choices as it was this time. 

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