You Say Yes, I Say No

Every now and then, sentimentality rears up and bites your head off.

I knew Alex's third birthday would be one of those moments. Leading up to the day, I tried to steel myself against the inevitable gasp at time. I'm no fool. I've noticed how her shoes pinch at the toes, how she can suddenly reach countertops and each fridge shelf, how her sweet baby softness has leaned out, how she dive-bombs off the couch and shrieks with mischief. She's morphed into a full-blown kid. Her aging was inevitable, looked forward to even. Each new discovery and personality trait makes Alex that much better.

But this was a turn. A hard shift from our previous life, and into new modality.

The older she gets, the less sure I am about everything. It's easy to be an expert on a creature that waddles and coos. But a being with growing emotions and words to grapple therein? An entirely different kettle of fish. However, the more I doubt my own choices, the more faith I have in her. The more I see her strength, her resilience. Every day is met with the biggest smile. She is overjoyed that the sun is up and we are together. And in those moments, with her halo hair and squinty grin, I too believe that the world is full of discovery and wonder.

Alex is so steadily herself. She still greets each person with a cheery "I'm Alex!" and sometimes a handshake or hug. She is social. She is gregarious. She is hilariously dramatic, all eye rolls and exaggerated flops to the floor—typically accompanied with a stark "I'm dead," which of course requires resuscitation leading to giggle fits. She is precise and curious and an expert at turning every single question back on the questioner. And she’s passionate about things. Oh, how she’s intensely passionate.

Watching your child love the things you love is almost reason enough to procreate. It’s not just validating, it’s intoxicating. I get a serotonin hit every time the radio plays and Alex delightedly squeals that the Beatles are playing. When she definitively declares her favorite Beatles are John Lennon and Ringo Starr, I’m nourished with pride.* Showing Alex my favorite movies, songs, or books, and watching her eyes glow with rapt attention delights me. 

I may not know where I’m going with schools, or punishments, or friends or struggles or all the awful things that can await her. But Alex, all herself, will be fine. I can share my loves. She will find her own.

Alex, my child, my girl, you have made the world wide. It's scary. Terrifying, in fact, full of things that could hurt you and that I desperately would like to shield you from, but know that I shouldn't. And every time you handle those challenges—climbing at playgrounds, crossing the creek—my heart bursts as you exclaim "I did it, I did it, I did it!" You did. You're better for it. And it makes me braver for you. Suddenly, that wide world of unknowns is full of joy and creativity, because of you.

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*even though her favorite songs are “Hey Jude” and “Hello Goodbye,” so I’m just saying…#PaulForever