Four

My daughter is almost four.

This sounds like, I bet, NOTHING, to someone who doesn't have kids, or maybe who doesn't have a girl child, or, just to take it further, it probably sounds like nothing to someone who doesn't have my particular daughter.

Three has been a little rough.

Three has meant something like ten tantrums a day at some point, for reasons such as "I didn't want YOU to tie my shoes, I wanted DADDY to tie my shoes!" and "I didn't want my food TOUCHING on the plate!" and "I wanted to pick my spoon out myself!" and oh, the list goes on and on. Melting down is a nice way to describe what would then happen. We tended to call it "losing your mind," which seems to me to be more accurate. Many times a day, this. I took deep breaths. I went running. I did my best to reflect her feelings. Sometimes I yelled or did things that would not put me in the mom hall of fame.

But I'll be honest...I prayed the other day, the other month, maybe, about all of this. I said, "God, you've given me this little person whom I desperately love. But I don't like her. I don't like being around her a lot of the time, and that makes me want to cry. Please help. Please, please, help."

Now there are some prayers that I've prayed and prayed and prayed, every day for years, and after a few years it seems that there might be the teeniest of dents in what I wanted to happen with the prayer. But there are other prayers that the second it comes out of my mouth God is falling all over Herself to dump the request on to me, like, "I was waiting for you to ask!" This whole enjoying my kid thing seems to be one of the ones where God couldn't wait to just shower me with all kinds of good kid moments. Or it could be just that she's nearing four. Whatever it is, I am supremely grateful for this hilarious, creative, dramatic, active, little girl, and that feels like a pretty huge miracle.