My Mini-me

I had a surreal experience last night.

I was sitting in my living room and looked up to see a 7-year-old version of myself. She was sitting on the couch immersed in a book. A Junie B. Jones book, to be exact. Just like I read 20-something years ago.

But this girl had my husband’s eyes and curly hair.

It’s no surprise to the people who know us that my daughter is my very own mini-me. She is so smart, but sometimes a know-it-all. She is a friend to everyone she meets. And, sometimes, she can be a bit dramatic.

(By “sometimes” I mean “at least once a day.”)

I remember finding out that we had a daughter on the way. Our first child. I immediately thought of the chick flicks, the Starbucks dates, and the mani/pedi outings I used to have with my own mom.

And now, I’m living the dream with my own little girl.

My daughter prefers bright pink or purple nail polish. She’s regulated to hot chocolate instead of coffee right now. And our chick flicks mostly involve princesses. But man, what a life to live.

At one point last night, she interrupted her reading to inform me: “You know, momma. Junie B. Jones is kind of rude.”

She’s not wrong.

And we’ve had conversations about it. Not every character we read about is one we’d want to emulate. It’s good to ask critical questions about what we read so that we can use those stories to help us make our own good decisions.

I pray she continues to have those thoughts. And that she includes me in those moments.

Because, as my mini-me, I know what she might come up against in the future. The things she’ll struggle with and the areas she may need to refine. And it’s my privilege to be a part of that growth.

What a responsibility it is to be a parent. What a challenge it is to parent yourself.

And what a joy it all is.