He didn't own a chainsaw when I married him. She doesn't own a Nerf machine gun. They were not present when the other hammed it up for the photos to the right. Father and daughter were putting on a show for their audience (which was just me) and trying to get a laugh.
They scare me a little. I'm sure you understand.
All these years I couldn't quite recognize who my little girl — soon to turn eight — resembled most. Clearly, she doesn't look like me. Her personality is nothing like mine. She's bubbly, friendly, and makes new friends quicker than I can down a donut. Still, I wondered about this fun loving child.
Somehow I missed it. Um, duh? I was in denial. Hence, the newest rule has been added to the list: Embrace the DNA.
Your child may not be your mini-me. They may embody all the lovely things about your spouse that make you go hmmm. When you got married, did you think long and hard about the possible traits your child could inherit? Did you think, "“Will my babies have my eyes and his smile? They'll be so cute!" I did.
I never considered the possibility that my sweet little girl, lulled by Mozart in the womb and cradle, would somehow be born liking Metallica. Oh yes, she does. I don't understand this sweet, machine gun loving daughter of mine, but I love her. She may even be more stubborn than her father (while I am the most flexible mom alive), but I love her. She may want to ride motorcycles and listen to Metallica and (most curious of all) watch the Jets game with her dad. I'm accepting it. Obviously, one has to be born into Jets fandom, much like serfdom.
I love her through her antics and drama. I will love her when she hates me for not letting her ride on the back of a Harley. I'll love her when she sneaks out to do it anyway. I'll sooth her sadness when her team loses (habitually). I won't complain about her taste in music... too often.
And I'll keep capturing all of her fascinating moments on film along the way.