As She Grows

Yesterday I asked my 3 year old daughter to pick up the cheese stick wrapper she'd left on the floor and to put it in the trash.  "I'm busy," she says.  "Oh. OK, well when you get a chance can you just..." and then I stopped myself for a moment of reflection.  Was I about to engage in an actual conversation with my [once] baby daughter?  The precious beauty that I used to cradle in my arms while wondering in amazement at the miracle that is newborn life?  The helpless creature that I had a part in creating?  The little being that has brought me more joy than anything else I have experienced or will ever experience again?  Where has my baby gone?  It's all moving too fast.

And then I thought to myself, "Fuck that.  Did she just tell me she was too busy?"