Lessons Learned

For those who don't know, my daughter is adorable.

I realized today that I've already lost my daughter. She's adorable. She's cute. She's funny. She's weird.

She's also smart, and playful, and extremely "independent" (I say independent, although, let's face it, without anyone to feed her, she'd... well... anyway).

She's a hit anywhere she goes. She's been on stage three times, once in an actual role. She lit up the stage in a song and dance routine, and was subsequently recognized for her role. She's been to the Big Apple, been a jet-setter for a proportionately large section of her life, and has written her own hauntingly beautiful sonata on the piano.

It's funny, because I'm so amazed at the wonderful person she is already. I know that her light will just get brighter and brighter as she grows, learns, and matures. But it's also a little sad. I miss the tiny, flailing, bleary-eyed munchkin we brought home from the hospital. I definitely miss that when we would put her somewhere and turn our backs, she wouldn't go anywhere.

It's the hallmark of any era that at its passing we mourn it, even if we move on into something greater. Penelope is becoming her own person. She has likes and dislikes. She prefers some people over others. Now, given a choice, my daughter will snuggle with my wife rather than with me. This is perfectly normal and nothing is wrong with that. But sometimes, I miss the little girl I knew before.

Being a father is bittersweet.