It’s My Life And I’ll Do What I Want

Last week, I took my little girl to the cloth and craft store. We were on a mission to pick out fun fabrics so that I could sew dress-up outfits for her. My husband and I had promised her a trunk of dress-up clothes for her birthday and she got to decide the colors and patterns.

We were both excited as we combed the aisles picking out the perfect materials. We got tulle and ribbons for a pretty tutu, a yard of beautiful iridescent blue satin with a big pink clip on rose and jeweled trimmings to make a truly fancy skirt, feature boas, lace, sequins and buttons.

It was pure joy!

We looked for fabric to make a cape. “What color?” I asked.

“Pink!” she shouted right away.

“But Atti,” I reasoned, “you have so many pink things. Why don’t we pick out a different color for a change?”

For a moment I thought she was going to dig her heels in and I held my breath. She thought it over then answered, “O.K.”

Excited to be given permission to pick out something that was not pink, I showed her pretty white velvet material. She shook her head, no. “White is boring, Mommy,” she informed me in the voice I use to explain to her why she shouldn’t be sticking raisins up her nose.

Trying not to let her see the amused smile on my face, I moved slowly down the aisle.

“What about red?” I asked.

Again she shook her head. All the while she kept fingering this hot pink velvet material. I could sense that I was running out of time. All of a sudden, I saw it. The perfect material and it was not pink! It was shinny black fabric with rainbow colored sequins on it. I gasped theatrically.

“Atira! Look at this one!”

My three-year old daughter raised her head dutifully to see what I was holding. Her brown eyes widened, her face and neck got beet red and her eyes filled with water. She sniffed twice then declared tearfully, “I’m going to cry!”

Alarmed I touched her on the shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong Ti?”

She swung her big brown tear-filled eyes away from the rainbow fabric for a moment and looked at me. Her little voice was filled with utter reverence as she answered, “I loooove rainbows!”

I looked at her closely, relieved at first, then fighting the sudden consuming desire to laugh out loud. Is this child for real? If she can do this to me at three, what am I going to do with her at thirteen? My mind went back to a morning, a few months before her second birthday when she had told me emphatically, “It’s my life to do!”

In that moment, standing in the fabric store staring at my three-year old little girl, I knew without a doubt, “It’s her life to do!