This morning Grant asked me if certain parts of Purslane's body would look like mine. Aside from being completely wierded out by the question, it made me go back and ponder the mystery that every once in a while blows my mind. This girl is made up of parts of me and parts of Grant. Together, we made a person. Our genes got together and formed something completely new to the world- a Purslane Claire.
And some things are obvious: she has the same hair Grant had when he was a babe- blond and curly. She has my smile and baby teeth- big and gappy. Her determined and stubborn nature we can't blame on either one of us- we both contributed. And then there are random things like the fact that she HATES napping- both of us love to sleep, so we are baffled. But she at one year would sit quietly while we read an entire book to her, which is also both of us. We are quite a nerdy, book-wormy family. She loves to eat, just like her Mama. She has a hard time relaxing and would rather be going, seeing and doing, just like her Dada. She fits beautifully in with our family, but is also adding her own color and making us evolve.
My new favorite thing is that she is learning to hug. She started with Grant- actually putting both arms around him and laying her head on his back. This absolutely rocks my world every time. And because she isn't really a cuddly baby, that 3 second hug is like a gift she is giving. She pauses just long enough to make Grant feel like the prince of her world, then she is off running, with her green wooden frog pull toy behind her.
I love this kid. I love the fact that she uses the pink purse that her Aunt LeeAnn got her for her birthday as a hat. I love that she can fall down two concrete steps, scrape up her shin- and then shake it off and climb right back up. I love that she is more likely to be friendly to a man with a beard then one clean shaven. I love that she can rally and be completely happy if there is a dinner party going on- even two hours past her bedtime. I love that she can tell if I have slipped in a piece of zucchini with her macaroni and selectively spit out the vegetable and keep the pasta.
She is definitely my daughter and even though I'm sure it will break my heart to watch her struggle with traits that I have passed on to her, hopefully as her Mama I will be able to walk her through them with whatever wisdom I have gathered. And the genes she got from her Dada will hopefully balance out the worst of mine.